The Tithe'd Ones
by Bryher
Summary: Another generation stolen, another set of lives taken for the Tithe that had been set by their forefathers. This is Dax's story.
1. Introductions Are In Order

Disclaimer; I do not own the King Arthur rights, I do not claim the charaters that you recodnise from the film. All i own is the plot and additional characters.

This is my first fanfiction on please review!

Introduction.

"Mother, what will happen should the Romans take all of our boys?" I asked curiously, flicking an unruly red curl out of my eyes. My mother looked up from her cook pot, frowning. My father and older brother laughed and sparred nearby while the rest of the tribe went about their needs and business.

"Why do you ask this?" My mother finally said, stirring the broth carefully, avoiding my gaze. I knew what I had said had struck a nerve. It was my turn to look away; instead I looked at the blade I was sharpening. My sabre. I loved my sword with every breath I had. Father had given it to me on my ninth birthday, the day I had made my first kill.

I remember that day clearly. The raiders had been picking at us for a while, shadowing us on our movements. Our small, Nomadic tribe was wary. While they were only a small group of Saxons from the lands east of Sarmatia, my homeland, they were known to be vicious killers. The attack had been at night, and I had awoken to the sounds of the Watchman's horn. I don't remember much of anything else but the kill. A lot of noise, a lot of shouting and screaming, and then it happened. I had taken my short dagger with me, not overly keen to be without it in this situation. A man had loomed up at me, a crow bill in his hands. I hadn't thought about what I was going to do, I'd just done it. The man swung at me, and I ducked under the blade, twisting closer to him and driving my blade up into his ribs. It was both horrible and wonderful at the same time. The horrible feel of bone breaking as I twisted the knife, and the even more disgusting feel of the warm blood rushing over my shaking fingers, but when he fell, the feeling changed. I felt powerful. It was giddying and grounding all at once. I knew that I shouldn't have taken pleasure in killing, but I thought too that it was a great feat. I was turning nine that day, and I had felled a man almost twice my size. A nine year old girl had felled a Saxon.

I smiled softly, thinking how much I had changed. My sabre shimmered in the dying daylight, the flames from the fire making it all the more beautiful in my eyes.

"Dax? _Daxera_?" Mother's voice pierced my little world. I looked up, a small frown on my lips.

"Sorry, what, Mother?" I asked, blinking. My Mother frowned, raising her ladle to point it at me. "You spend too much time thinking. You need to think more like a woman now. You're almost sixteen, Dax, and…" I stopped listening. I never listened when she went into this rant. Father told me once that I could do whatever I wanted to do, that I had the blood of the legendary Sarmatian Cavalry running in my veins. Regardless of the fact I was a girl, I wanted to fight, to Scout and hunt. I had never been wonderful at the things a woman was supposed to be good at. Such as sewing and cooking, cleaning and looking after babes. I was hopeless at all of that. I was good at archery and sword techniques. I was adequate at wrestling, but there was a huge amount of room for improvement there. I was hopeless with the axe, it was too cumbersome a weapon for me, as I was slight and slender, not tall enough to wield a battleaxe and not weighty enough for a broadaxe. I liked my sabre, quick, clean, and minimal fuss, same with the bow. The dagger was my other favourite weapon, though if I had to fight it was not a weapon of choice, for obvious reasons. Sighing, I looked to my mother once again, amusement quirking my mouth to see that she was still ranting, although she hadn't realised that I wasn't listening. Finally, she seemed to run out of things to say. I stood, sheathing my sabre and walking past, patting her on the shoulder and muttering: "All in good time, Mother, all in good time." in a placatory manner. I strode to my own tent, ducking underneath the flap to throw myself unceremoniously to the furs that made both my bed and occasional cloak, depending on the weather. My thoughts once again turned to the Romans. What if they did take every capable young one? It was a dream, nightmare, really, that I had been having as of late. The Romans would come, ones from Dacia; they hated our kind, for raiding Iazyges would threaten that province yearly. Our tribe were a mixed one, half Iazyges and half Roxolani, and although we hugged the shorelines, the Roxolani in some of the mixed children and parentspulled them inland now and then, separating the tribe. My parents were both Iazyges, and my brother and I earned the tattoos of our people when we were 7, my brother, Hanlor, three years older than I, used to talk to me for hours about how he was going to get so many more tattoos. I smiled roughly, tilting my head to rest on my pack, feeling a sense of unease. The Dacian Romans took me, my brother, Galian, a friend of Hanlor, and Therin, my cousin. They took more, children who I had known since childbirth, but who I couldn't recognise, as the Dacians had covered their faces. I shuddered, feeling ill. I didn't want to go to Britain. I didn't want to stay with the tribe forever either, but to be a slave to the Roman Empire seemed too much. To be restricted into a life of killing and war was unreal to me. I knew my brother and Galian were Tithe'd to it, but I wasn't. And neither was Therin. We were girls, we were not expected to be able to fight.

In truth, every woman in our tribe could fight. It was a necessity, for who would protect the children and old ones should the Raiders strike while the men where hunting?

The tent flap opened, and Han ducked in, smiling at me. "Hello, Little Fire," he greeted, using his nickname for me. I smiled, running a rueful hand through my fiery hair, something I had inherited from Mother. "I saw Mother having another rant at you. Are you alright?" He asked, settling himself down on his behind, near my weaponry. I sighed, dropping my head down to the furs and groaning. "Han, what am I going to tell her? That I don't want to marry and have twelve dozen children and give up the sword? I'm not even sixteen yet, and she's already trying to match-make me with every male in the village." I grumbled, lifting my head and glaring at nothing in particular. Han chuckled, and my glare had a new focus. "Little Fire, she just doesn't understand why you do not do the things the other girls do. You do not make doe eyes at the young men, you do not spin, sew, cook or mind the babes…" This was sounding horribly familiar. My stomach churned at the thought of babes. I hated the thought of looking after a child. "Han, I don't want to do that. One day, I want to leave the tribe and explore, I want to see things, go places, fight fights. I don't want to be stuck in this life forever." I said, impassioned by my own imagination. Han reached over and tugged a braid of my hair, smiling. I grinned back and tugged one of his own. I reached further though, running my fingers over his tattoos, the symbol of our tribe on his left cheek bone. I smiled sadly. I didn't want Han to leave. I snorted at my own idiocy. Han looked alarmed.

"And why, pray tell, should you be doing impressions of Alfren after a beer night?" He asked, a raised eyebrow making me laugh at his attitude and the reference to the tribes' Leader, our fathers Uncle.

"I don't want you to go, but I don't want to stay. It makes no sense." I said slowly, frowning a little. Han hugged me suddenly, something he had not done for years.

"Don't worry, Little Fire, we'll think of something." He whispered soothingly.


	2. Romans

Thankee to my two reviewers!

blueglass25: you don't sound obnoxious at all! What i meant by Tithe'd is the Knight's Due to the Romans, so it's sort of a compromise. I looked up the dictionary definition of it, and it's the same as yours! But yeah, i didn't think about the other side of the story! Sorry about that..

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Thanks for reviewing, hope you do again soon!

Anyway! On with Chapter One! Haha!

Chapter 1

It was early, I knew that much. I didn't know much else though, my brain addled with sleep. The Watchman's horn went off again, and I scrambled up, cursing my hibernation tendencies. How long had the horn been blowing? I could sleep like a bear every night. "Dax!"

"Daxera!"

"Little Fire, get up!" The shouts of my family broke through my annoyed layer and I grabbed my sabre and dashed out of the tent, somewhat grateful that I had fallen asleep in my clothes the night before. "What?" I asked, still sleepy ,wisely not leaning on my father, sense creeping in.

"The Romans are here." Mother whispered, terrified. She looked at me, and I knew she was thinking about the question I had asked her at the fireside. I felt sick, looking to Han for any sort of reaction. He looked excited, terrified and resolute all at once. I touched his arm gently, leaning in so Father and Mother couldn't hear. "I will go with you." Han jumped back from me as though scalded. He looked at me, eyes confused and wary. Slowly, he shook his head, watching as Mother and Father walked away to talk to Alfren. "How?" He asked me, looking frightened suddenly.

"They will tell me to." I said, motioning with a slightly shaking hand at the approaching Romans. Han shook his head, vehement.

"Dax, don't be silly. They would never take girls." Anger bubbled through me, annoyance at my brother's refusal to believe me. "Han, they will! I'm going to prepare."

No more than half an hour later, my brother and I were mounted on our horses, expressions grim. I was somewhat comforted by the weight of my sabre hanging between my shoulders, though I was at the same time discomforted in watching Mother sobbing brokenly outside my now empty hut. Father stood by her, a hand on her shoulder. Han's expression was stoic, and I frowned. "Brother, I'm sorry if I offended you," I began, reaching over to grasp his forearm, when he turned and grabbed my hand. "Sister, promise me one thing?" He growled, fierce. Slightly taken aback, I shrugged. "Anything, Brother."

"Try to find the Tribe once you are free."

"Once we are free." I said dangerously, not liking the look on his face. Therin, my cousin and friend rode up, looking terrified. Her choosing had been of no surprise to me-she was the only other girl of age in the village that wasn't already married or with child. "Alright?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral, showing a bravery that I didn't feel. She looked at me, dazed. I frowned, "Therin." I said sharply. Her eyes seemed to focus, and she looked at me in another light. "Concentrate. Do not let the Romans see you afraid." Straightening, she nodded and raised her chin, momentarily turning to check her pouches of herbs and the like were secure. She went to be a healer, as I had thought. Galian was the next to join us, stoic acceptance on his comely face making my heart swell in appreciation. At least I would not be all alone in my excitement.

Mother pushed forwards, handing Han and I pouches, the feel of which suggested herbs to remind us on home. "Thank you, Mother. I will not forget." I murmured down to her as she patted my thigh. My hulking mare shifted, and I sighed. She was newly broken to the saddle and reign, and I prayed to Andraste that she wouldn't give me any bother.

Alfren came away from his discussions with the Roman leader, standing before us with a sad face. "Do us proud, never forget who you are. Fight to the last and help those in need." With those words, I left my home, feeling deep in my heart that I would never see this place again, despite my promise to Han.


	3. Riding Out With The New Family

Chapter 2

The next few days passed in a blur, it was introductions, sleep, riding, more introductions and more riding. To make matters worse, it had begun to rain, and it rained on for two days in a row. I sat on my mare in total consternation. Normally, I loved the rain, but at that moment in time, I was soaked, tired, and hungry. I was getting pissy.

"It's wonderful, is it not?" Asked a soft voice to my left. The girl rode a stallion, old, but sturdy, I knew he liked apples-he stole one from my mare. I knew her name, we had conversed briefly when we had first left the tribe, and I knew little else but her name.

"What's wonderful, Bair?" I asked, a small sigh escaping me as a raindrop slid under my hood and trickled down my neck. Findabair was 18, two years older than myself, and wild looking. Tall and muscular, she was quiet a lot of the time, but the huge longbow slung over her horse said she was an accomplished archer-no one else could have drawn that thing. Bair, as most knew her, smiled softly and pushed back her hood, lifting her face to the rain. "The rain is so cleansing, wonderful and cool." She muttered, grinning to the skies. I wondered briefly if she was mad, studying her with my head tilted to one side, before Bors, one of the men we had picked up yesterday, rode past her and said, "Rain is good-it washes all the blood away."

"I'll remember that!" I called after him, frowning in annoyance. Bair chuckled, drawing her hood up again so as not to catch a chill. Annoyance flashed out at her too, but I said nothing. It would not do to begin fifteen years with an enemy. I drew back to ride on my own, trying to make myself calm down.

"Hello." I almost missed the voice, so incredibly quiet. I looked around, this time, to my right. A tiny boy was riding a young gelding, something he seemed bound to grow into. "Hello, what's your name?" I asked, looking him over. I mustn't have seen him yesterday. He was small, slight and pale. Sandy, strawlike hair and huge, imploring blue eyes. My heart jolted, he was absolutely adorable.

"Maddock. People call me Dock though." He almost whispered, looking down at the pommel of his saddle. I smiled gently, my bad mood dissipating around this young boy. "I am Dax." I offered, reaching over to give him a hand. Dock reached over and took my hand, shaking it slightly, making me grin a little at feeling how weak his grip was.

"You go to fight, Dock?" I asked suddenly. He looked at me, shame on his face. Silently, he shook his head, murmuring, "To heal." Pity and guilt ran through me like the rain ran down my skin.

"I am envious of you." I said, watching him. Dock looked up, confusion on his face. I looked forwards, smiling briefly as I saw Han lean over and gently smack Galian upside the head, no doubt for some ridiculous comment.

"I envy you because you are not a killer. To only have talent as a taker of life, rather than a giver, is not a good thing.

My Father once told me that he wished I had been born a boy. That way, I wouldn't be so strange. A woman in our tribe has a place, and it is with babes, and the cook pot. Yes, our women fight. But I fight, and do nothing else. I cannot nurture, nor give life. You see my meaning?"

Dock frowned, thinking. The rain began to lighten, and I looked to the skies, smiling as the sunlight began to pierce the clouds, though it did not drive them away. The land before us was bathed in shafts of light, the rain, warming to us now, was fairly light. It was a beautiful sight. I was sad to leave.

"I do not envy you, " Dock said finally, "Nor any of the other men. I do not like to kill. My place is with you, but not beside you. I heal, save life. You take it away. I can be your balance, should you wish it." This threw me off a little. He looked no more than nine, and he sounded old beyond even my fathers years. I blinked, "How old are you, Dock?" He thought for a moment.

"I am twelve." My eyes widened. So young, and yet so wise. I felt humbled.

"I would be honoured for you to be my balance, Dock." I said honestly.

Dock and I rode in comfortable silence for the next three or four hours, neither of us bothered by the silence. I took the time to study the others with us.

A young woman in front of Dock and I kept muttering to herself, and as the wind occasionally tossed words back to me, I heard things like,

"Stupid Romans…don't want this… Mother….not approve.." Her voice was whiny, and I felt a dislike for the girl beginning already. "Dock?" I asked, not taking my eyes off the whiner. "Hmm?"

"Who is that girl? Do you know her?" Dock snorted, something that surprised me. He didn't seem the snorting type.

"Her name is Brenna," He said in a cautious tone, lifting a hand to shove his hair from his eyes, checking he was out of hearing distance. "She was talking at me last night." I laughed quietly, raising one of my own hands to cover my mouth lest she hear.

"She was talking at you?"

"She was hardly talking with me. It was all about her. I don't like her already. I know it's a horrid thing to say, but I think she's going to get on everyone's nerves." Dock said a little sadly. I nodded and said no more, instead turning around in my saddle to look at who else I hadn't met. A large man, tall and muscular, waved at me, smiling. He was a terrifying sight, a shaved head and a scar running down his face. Clearly already a warrior, for he carried a huge axe over his saddle. I waved back, smiling, relieved we were on the same side. He kicked his massive gelding onwards until he drew level with me.

"I'm Dagonet, I see you've met Dock." He said, his deep voice rumbling in his cavernous chest. Dock looked up, a huge smile breaking out on his face. Clearly, they were friends.

"Dag! This is Dax. She's from the tribe the Romans went to before us." Dock explained, still smiling. Dag nodded, looking with piqued interest at me. "You're Hanlon's sister? From the same tribe as Galian?" I nodded, a slight smile on my face.

"How did you know? Han and I don't look alike." I asked, curious. Dag waved a hand the size of a plate around in the air, "Oh, Galian pointed you out to me. 'Said you were an oddity." I blushed in both anger and embarrassment. I made a mental note to trounce Galian later.

"I've embarrassed you, I apologize." Dagonet quickly put in.

"No, it's alright, it's just Galian has a talent for telling people things about others. He means no harm, but he doesn't think." I explained, looking ahead with a scowl at Galian, who was now talking to Therin. Dagonet smiled knowingly, shaking his head. "I should not have judged you without speaking to you beforehand." He rumbled, looking a little embarrassed himself. I sighed; time for a few home truths.

"The sad thing is, Dagonet, he is right. I am an oddity. I'm not like the other women in our Tribe." The big man didn't say anything for a moment, and I wondered briefly if I had annoyed him somehow. Eventually, he looked over to Dock, who had sunk away into his own little world. He grinned, shaking his head again. Raising his eyebrows as though preparing himself for something, Dagonet looked at me. "May I ask how you are an oddity?"

"I am a fighter." This in itself made one of his brows raise incredulously as he looked me over. I bridled inside. I was small and slight, but I could still probably trounce him should I try hard enough. He was huge; it would probably not take long to wear him down. "Care to broaden on that?" He asked, looking forwards again.

" I… well. It's hard to explain. I told Dock on his terms. I suppose it works with others; I take life. I am no good at womanly things, such as cooking, cleaning, tending to babes, sewing and healing. I am good at the Hunt and the Sword. I can Scout and shoot, but I can't make a decent porridge."

Dagonet laughed, a pleasing, deep sound. I liked this man, I decided. He was honest and kind. "Galian told me your brother has a pet name for you. I can see it in you. Little Fire…" He teased. I grinned ruefully. "Yes, well…" I trailed off. At that moment, Bors called out for Dagonet, and the big man nodded a farewell and reigned in his horse to talk to the other. Another Tribe was nearing; I could see the smoke as it rose from behind a dip. A horse thundered before us, and I realised with a frown it was probably someone trying to tell their tribe about the approaching caravan. I sighed as I wondered how many more families would be torn apart.


	4. Meeting

Chapter 3

"Are you alright, Little Fire?" Han asked. I looked up from the fire, leaning back against the log behind me, to which my horse and four others were tethered. I frowned, looking around for Dock. I hadn't seen him since we had made camp for that night.

"Aye, I'm just looking for someone, a friend I made today. Small boy, blonde and huge blue eyes?" Han shrugged, shaking his head. I tried to ignore the worry that gathered in the pit of my stomach. Dagonet would be looking after him, surely. Galian nudged me, offering rabbit. I declined, not particularly hungry. Therin was at another fireside, talking to two girls, one of which had a baby with her. The mother was young, slender and blonde, pretty. I saw a few of the other young men looking at her, but as their eyes fell on the baby, many of them looked away. I rolled my eyes.

"What is it?" Galian asked, looking at me, his face lit by the small fire. I shifted, making myself more comfortable before gesturing over to Therin and the other girls.

"Men keep looking at the blonde girl, the pretty one? As soon as they see the baby they turn away. They're looking for an easy lay. We have to fight alongside then for the next fifteen years, and this is how they treat every pretty girl they see." I said heatedly. "I'm just pleased I'm in no danger from them." I muttered as an afterthought. Galian looked at me, furrowing his brow. "What do you mean, 'you're in no danger?'" I shook my head, standing. "I'm no rose, Galian. Not even a daisy for that matter!" I laughed, before ambling over to see Therin.

"Therin?" I mumbled, suddenly feeling shy in front of these women I didn't know. My cousin looked up, smiling at me. "Dax! I was wondering where you were." I smiled shyly. I could make friends with men easily enough, being the way I was, but women tended to shun me. "I was coming to see how you were, we haven't really spoken for the past few days." I explained, hovering. Therin waved me to sit down, and I did, offering a small smile to the women on the other side of their fire. They both smiled back. Therin introduced us, waving her hands animatedly.

"Dax, this is Rowena and her son, Alessandro, and this is Melva. Melva, Rowena, this is my cousin, Daxera. Otherwise known as Dax." I reached over the fire, clasping hands with the women and smiling in what I hoped was a neutral way at Baby Alessandro. Rowena smiled gently. It was then I notice the daggers strapped to her legs and chest. I looked behind her and looked to her horse; a broadsword hung over in a sheath. My eyes widened, and Rowena turned. "Ah, yes. I go to fight." She laughed. "You think me useless?" She asked, no trace of malice in her voice. I shook my head vehemently, frowning, but answered, "What about the baby?" Rowena looked sadly down at her son, who gurgled and squirmed happily. "My husband wouldn't have coped with him. I love Trowa, but I'll be the first to say he isn't the greatest Father." I leant back, feeling sad for the poor child. If Rowena died, he would have no family in Britain. Melva looked as though she wanted to say something, but blushed and looked away. Rowena nudged her with a small smile and said, "Melva is very shy. Give her time though; she'll talk to someone eventually." I smiled at Melva and nodded.

"Dax!" Someone called. I stood up, "I'll leave you to your talk, nice to meet you both. See you later, Therin." Turning, I looked out into the gloom to spot the person who had called me. "Over here, it's Dag." I trotted over to their fire, a questioning feeling in my stomach. The huge man looked worried. "Where's Dock? Have you seen him?" He asked, looking around. My heart dropped. "I thought he was with you, I haven't seen him since we set up camp." I told him, feeling ill. I should have been looking out for him. Dagonet looked down at me; worry clear in his kind eyes. "We'll find him, he'll be in the camp somewhere." I said firmly, a reassurance in my voice that I hoped convinced the giant in front of me. Splitting up Dagonet searched one side and I searched the other. One fire caught my attention, laughter ringing out, and I spotted a small figure sitting with them, arms wrapped around their knees.

Jogging over, I let out a breath I hadn't realised I had been holding when I saw Dock, smiling with the other men. I was about to turn away to find Dagonet, when Dock shouted, "Dax!" The young men looked around at me, and I inwardly cursed the boy.

"Hello, Dock." I replied wearily, hoping I wasn't invited to their fire. I was exhausted now from the riding and the worry, and I wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. "Who's your friend?" Asked one, turning to Dock. He leapt up, running over to grab my sleeve; I looked for Dagonet. The big man had spotted us, and nodded at me before returning to his own fire. I let Dock drag me over and sit me down between himself and a tall, slender man. "This is Dax, she's from the same tribe as Galian and Hanlon," Dock explained. I saw many of them looking at my tribal tattoos on my cheek and neck. The man next to me nudged me, saying quietly, " I am Adair." I nodded, not really wanting to stay long, but before I could make any excuses, I was bombarded with names.

"I'm Galahad."

"Cadman."

"Macklin."

"Lancelot."

"Hafgan."

"I, fair lady, am Finn." I raised an eyebrow at the last man to speak. He saw incredibly handsome, and I reprimanded myself for letting my stomach break out in butterflies. He looked a little older than I, with dirty-blonde curls that hung rakishly over his long lashed green eyes. Although his demeanour was easy and relaxed, I saw tense muscles, broad shoulder and an appeal that almost made me blush. "Fair Lady?" I snorted, "I think not- Thank you anyway." I added as an afterthought. Finn didn't look put out at all. I could tell he was a womanizer by the look of him. "Dag was looking for you." I whispered to Dock as the talk started up again. Nodding, he stood and jogged over to Dagonet's fire. I was about to leave, relived that the talk had not stayed on my point, when Adair, the man beside me, began to speak.

"So, Dax, you are a fighter, so Dock tells us." He said kindly, I smiled, settling down again. There was something calming about this man. He seemed both confident and kind. "Yes, I trained with my Father and brother, Han, from a young age." I explained, pointing in the vague direction of our own fire. Adair smiled, his pale face friendly. " I am also a fighter, though more of an archer." He looked sad for a moment. "My Father died when I was young, it was my Uncle that taught me." I felt pity for the man, furrowing my brow, I asked, "So you leave behind little family?" Adair looked up, pain in his eyes. I was taken aback, and almost rose to leave. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ups-.."

"No, it wasn't you." He interrupted, looking into the fire and waving a hand as if to dismiss my misstep. "I leave behind a wife, she is with child." He continued, his voice quiet. My heart surging with pity for the man, I nodded over to Therin's fire. "See the blonde?" Adair's grey eyes narrowed momentarily as he looked for Rowena. "Yes.." He said finally, looking back to me.

"She has a baby with her now. Alessandro is his name." I told him, voice low. Adair had obviously not seen her, for his eyebrows almost shot into his hairline. "A child? How old?" He asked, keeping his voice low. I shrugged, tossing a small twig into the flames, feeling a little uncomfortable now. "I know not. All I know is his name and he looks young. Very young." I muttered. Adair tilted his head to one side,

"You are a woman and you did not look after the child nor ask his age?" He asked, amused. Heat flushed to my face, annoyance coursing through me.

"Just because I am a woman does not mean that I have to know about babes, Adair. Goodnight." I rose and left, furious. It seemed wherever I went I was doomed to be labelled as a common woman to do the work of a mother.

Sleeping that night was strange. Somehow, I ended up in between Han and Galian. Therin slept with Rowena and Melva, and so it was we three, four horses and a log. I leant against the log, my brother and friend on the each side of me. As the fire began to die down, I reached up and tugged the saddle blanket from my mare, whom I had decided to call Testy, simply because that was what she was. Throwing it over all of us, I sat back down. Han put his arm around my shoulders, and Galian in turn put his head on my stomach as he slumped. I leant my head against Han's chest, pulling the blanket in. Sleep tugged us all under fairly quickly, and my dreams were addled with strange things; dancing wolves and screaming hawks, rolling thunder and blue men. I was scared suddenly, as my dreams took over. For who knew whether what I was dreaming was real or false?


	5. Awakening the Bear

Chapter 4

The soft fall of rain on my face awoke me, and I cursed immediately. "Damn this stupid bloody weather!" I snapped, burying my head further into a limb. I felt a chuckle from behind me, and I looked at whose chest I was lying on. Galian was still asleep, my head under his chin and his arm over me, the other lying outside the blanket. I could feel my legs entangled with that of my brother, who hugged the pair of us from behind for warmth. Han began to laugh again, saying teasingly, "My sister, the bear, has awoken." Grunting, I shoved Galian's arm off and stood up, pulling the other man into wakefulness. "Wha's happenin'?" Galian slurred, trying to tug my blanket back off me to hide under. "Dax is happening." Han laughed and dodged a clod of mud I swiped up from the increasingly wet ground. Cleaning my hand off on the blanket, I threw it back over Testy, lifting my saddle from under the oiled sheet I used to keep it dry. The Roman soldiers were striding around, shouting at everyone to get up. As one neared us, he looked at me and snapped, "Hurry up, wench!" My temper, not at its best in the morning, snapped.

"Why don't you just toddle back off to your pony, Princess?" I snapped, making a rude gesture with my hand. The soldier whipped around, face a nasty puce colour. "What did you say to me?" He yelled, drawing his sword. "You heard." I hissed coldly, walking around Testy to stand before him defiantly. His mouth dropped, anger making his piggy eyes even smaller.

"You can't say that to me, I'm a Roman Soldier." My wrath growing, I shoved a finger in his chest and pushed back wards, poking to accentuate every word.

"I. Do. Not. Care." I hissed, about to add to my tirade. The whole camp had ground to a halt, watching us. I looked around quickly, weighing up my options should I decide to punch the incompetent idiot.

"What's going on here?" The Roman Captain yelled, sweeping over. _Wonderful_. I thought, _Another idiot to argue with_. I saw Findabair behind them, shaking her head frantically at me, willing me to stop. Dock sat on Dagonet's shoulders, grinning.

"Nothing, _My Lord_," I muttered sarcastically. The Soldier however, was having none of it. "Captain, she started shouting at me, and was pushing me around!" He whined, Adair suddenly strode forwards and stood beside me.

"She did nothing of the sort. This soldier was rude to her and Dax got annoyed. She isn't the one with a sword, you might notice." The Captain looked at his Soldier and cuffed him around the head, snapping, "Get the others ready! And put the sword away!" The Soldier and Captain walked off, the Soldier turning to look at me. I raised an eyebrow disdainfully, a challenging smirk on my lips.

Adair looked down at me, a reprimanding Father like figure. Suddenly, his face softened, and he clasped a hand to my shoulder, "I didn't offend you last night, did I? I apologize; my comment was both untimely and unfair." He murmured, looking embarrassed. "Think nothing of it," I grinned, my bad mood clearing up along with the skies. "I shouldn't be so tetchy anyway." Adair grinned back and nodded, excusing himself as Finn called to him. Turning, I looked at my brother and Galian. They both burst out laughing. Galian slung a friendly arm over my shoulders, grinning like a boy at his first Beltane. "Well, Little Fire," He laughed, using my brothers nickname for me, "I'd hate to be on the other side to you." Ruefully, I gave a tight-lipped grin, continuing back to ready my horse.

We began to ride west, the short shower making everyone quiet and soggy, the Romans leading us. I rode between Finn and Adair, all three of us silent. Dock rode before me, Dagonet and Galian to his flanks. The caravan rode in ranks of three, silent but for the occasional spatter of light hearted chatter.

Around mid-day, The Captain called a halt and rest, telling us to eat a little and armour up.

"Armour?" Finn cried incredulously, "What will we need armour for here? We're in the middle of nowhere." The Captain merely glared at him and dismounted, saying nothing more. Sliding off Testy, I slipped her an apple from my saddlebags, pulling my armour from the horses back. The armour had been my mothers, made as a gift to her from her Father when she had left their Iazyges tribe to come to ours. My mother had never been a fighter, and it fit me well, though I chose to leave off the leg greaves. Standing between my own mount and Finn's, I pulled off my jerkin, leaving me in a white shirt that used to belong to my brother. Tucking the jerkin away, I pulled out a shirt of wool, pulling its dark brown fibres over my head to keep me warm and padded. Next came the breastplate. It was fitted to a woman's shape, my shape, and I asked Finn to cinch the ties at the back. "Slender little thing aren't you?" He flirted as he pulled the ties in. "Like a war goddess." Rolling my eyes at Adair, who was already armoured and sitting on his mount, I smiled back as the tall man grinned. Finn ran a finger over the back of my neck as he tied the top leathers, and I pulled away immediately once he was done. He smirked, and my stomach clenched in knots. "Go after the pretty ones, Finn." I advised, turning to grab my arm guards and leather fingerless gloves. He leant over me, pushing my hair from my ear as he whispered, "You're the prettiest of them all.." Anger surged through me. I wasn't pretty at all, and I knew it. I had never been approached by any young man, and I suspected that Finn knew how to charm girls like me. Well this girl wasn't having any of it. Lifting a leg sharply, I 'accidentally' kicked him in the shin. I knew he was wearing greaves and it wouldn't hurt, but it was a warning. Finn chuckled, patting my shoulder as he went back to his own armour, which tied at the front and needed no assistance to put on. Sliding the guard onto my arms, I tied them and slipped my gloves on, mounting Testy again after making sure everything was secured under the oilcloth sheet. I drew my sabre, checking for water damages. As I drew my weapon, Bair called for me. Sliding my undamaged blade reverently back to my sheath, I swung the blade around to rest once more between my shoulders, wondering what the woman wanted. Finn smirked as I edged my mare past his gelding. I smirked as Testy snapped at his horse.

Bair smiled at me as I joined her. "The Romans want you and I to ride ahead to the next settlement to get their boys." I nodded, looking at the snotty little Soldier I had run in with this morning. "We're to meet them at nightfall at a ridge. I know where it is." She continued, frowning slightly as she saw where I had looked.

"He's not worth it." She added, turning her horse. "I'll tell the Captain you agreed!" Bair called over her shoulder as she rode to the head of the caravan. I reigned Testy back, looking for Han. I spotted him talking to Brenna, the sulky girl from yesterday. I grinned. He _wasn't_ talking. She was talking. And by the look on his face, he wasn't happy. "Brother!" I called, working to keep the laughter from my tone.

Han looked up, hopeful. With a small laugh, I shouted down the caravan, "I'm riding onwards to another tribe; I'll see you at nightfall!" The sour look I received had my shoulders shaking as I rode away.


	6. No More, Daxera

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Chapter 5

The tribe were Roxolani Nomads, rather like our own. Bair shivered beside me, the cold wind on the Steppes blowing the grasses hither and thither. "You want my extra jerkin?" I asked, looking at her. I had pulled out my long black cloak some time before, pulling its warm weight over my flaming hair and wrapping it around my armoured frame. She nodded, and so I reached around me to fuss with the oilcloth to pull out the other jerkin. I handed it to her, before twisting around on Testy yet again to fix the mussed oilcloth. I heard a laugh, and looked over to Bair. A giggle bubbled up inside my own throat; I hadn't thought about how much smaller I was than the woman. Her muscular and tall frame wouldn't fit into my jerkin. "Sorry, Findabair, it looks like you're stuck." I said ruefully as I took back my jerkin. I stood in the stirrups, instead of putting the warm cloth back into the oilcloth cover I sat on it, my saddle-sore behind welcoming the softness. She shrugged, reaching behind her to pull a cloak from her saddlebag. "I have a cloak. I just hate wearing it." She said with another shrug, seeing my surprised stare. Annoyance and amusement bubbled in my chest, but as I looked out to the Roxolani Tribe, it succumbed to a feeling of sadness and remorse. We were riders bringing bad news. Leaving with children at our sides. It wasn't fair.

Bair must have seen my face, for she reached over and gripped my shoulder in a surprisingly strong hold. "We're only taking two. A boy and girl. I was told by the Roman Scout when we left."

Reaching the Tribe, we dismounted and strode to the leader. I looked around as Bair talked, feeling suddenly very homesick. It was exactly like home. Every tribe was similar, and I had not dared to go to the other Tribes from which we had collected. My stomach churned, and a sudden burning feeling scratched across my eyes, a lump forming in my throat. Furious with myself, I coughed, trying to pretend that I was having a minor attack that would bring tears to my eyes. The boy and girl were brother and sister, both blonde. Their names, I heard from their tearful mothers lips as they mounted their horses. "Gawain, look after your sister, make sure she is safe. Arlana, listen to your brother. Don't get into trouble for goodness sake." As I straightened, face sombre, I looked at the pair. My heart leapt straight back into my throat. Arlana, the girl, looked no older than thirteen. Gawain, her brother, was older than I, by the looks of him. Both were blonde, though whereas Arlana was bright, golden blonde, Gawain was darker, a shading that suited him. She looked terrified. I made up my mind then and there that I would watch out for her. She would not be in fear alone.

We rode away in silence, Gawain beside me, and Arlana beside Bair, the Tribe called out to them as we crested the hill. Gawain and Arlana raised their fists and yelled, yelled loud and long. If I could have wept, I would have. But I was no longer the Daxera of my Tribe. I was Dax, and now I had to be like stone. I had to be stronger.

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	7. Meeting the Hawk

Chapter 6

I couldn't sleep. It was too hot. Rolling over, I shook off Galian's arm. For some reason, he had taken to sleeping near me, slowly moving to take me over as he slept. It was steadily annoying me. Han had looked at me strangely that very morning. I hadn't realised what he was looking at, until I tried to get up and realised that I couldn't get off the floor. Galian had grumbled as I'd shoved him off me. Sleeping in armour meant that I was tried, cranky and sore, unable to feel Galian's arm around my waist. I was not amused.

Sighing, I flung my saddle blanket back over Galian, before checking that Han was still asleep. Picking up my sabre, I took once last look back at the smouldering embers of the fire and my sleeping brother and snoring friend before turning and making for the clearing a little way into the woods.

Stepping into the moonlight, I smiled softly, thinking of the faerie tales my Father had told me of when I was a child; of clearings and lovers and all the other ideals that a young woman should be dreaming of as she gets older and closer to marriage.

I sat down near the spring, leaning back with a sight sigh against a rocky outcrop. Drawing my sabre, I grinned foolishly, watching the moonlight glittering off the blade, dashing off the rocks and grass, skittering across the water. Shaking my head ruefully, I thought about the life I was going to.

Training for a year, then onwards to a post. A slight frown creased my face. Only a year. Some of the mere children we collected would never have even swung a sword before. Yes, there would be Tithe'd ones like Han, Me, Galian, Finn, Bair and the others, but there were also ones like Galahad, who was very young, and Gawain and his sister, Arlana, both who looked as though they had led peaceful, undisturbed lives. Sheathing my sabre, I sighed, tilting my head back against the cool rock and closing my eyes, imagining I was at home. I hadn't thought I would get this homesick. A slight shuffling noise had my eyes open in a flash. A pair of deep brown eyes were all I could see. Panicked, I let out a cry, which was quickly stifled by a mucky hand over my mouth, my head banging painfully against the rock behind me. "I'm a friend." Murmured my attacker, leaning back a little so I could see him. Removing his hand from my mouth, he rested his elbows on his knees, settled on his haunches. I studied him, both terrified and curious. He was balanced on the balls of his feet, right over my knees, leaning forwards slightly to look into my face. Dark, braided hair fell to around his shoulders, inquisitive, dark eyes above high cheekbones and a slightly thin mouth. A straight nose with a smudge of dirt over it brought a quick smile to my mouth before I wiped it from my face, unsure of how he would react. He didn't say anything, simply looking at me with curiosity in his own eyes. Something half obscured by his hair caught my eyes, and before I thought about what I was doing, I reached up and brushed his hair from his face, running my fingertips over two slightly scar-raised arrow tattoos that adorned his cheek bones. Reality kicked in, and I yanked my hand away as though burned. He grinned roguishly, his unshaven face making him seem rather feral. He looked as though he was around two or three years older than I, and his nearness was starting to get to me.

"Who are you?" I asked, wary. He didn't move for a moment, his eyes slowly running over me like I was a piece of meat laid out under him. Anger pulsed through me and I shoved, hard. He fell back as I jumped up, trying to move before he fell on me. I seriously misjudged my speed, and I fell back down with a pained "Oomph!" as the stranger fell on my legs. Swearing quietly, I struggled onto my elbows, glaring at him. He was chuckling quietly sat comfortably on my shins. "Get off..." I muttered, shifting my legs. To my surprise, he did, reaching a hand down to help me stand. I took it, feeling the roughness of the palm. He'd obviously worked very hard in his lifetime so far. I saddened as I thought of the hardships that he would face in our outpost.

"I am Tristan."

I looked up, surprised. I wasn't expecting him to speak. And here we were again, much closer than I thought necessary. I tried to step back, halted by the rock I had been leaning on-_minding my own business_, I thought in annoyance. "I tell you my name, yet you do not tell me yours? Should I call you Angel?" He asked, stepping away and whistling softly. I could only stand open mouthed as a horse trotted into the clearing, whickering gently as it nudged Tristan's hand. I looked at him. Tall, lithe and dark, he looked like some sort of shadow given solidarity.

"The camp is this way." I said finally, feeling heat rush to my face. I had been acting like a love struck chit, making a total and utter fool of myself. Tristan merely smirked and followed me through the trees.

The camp was silent, save for small snores and flickering embers, the spit of dying fires popping now and then. Alessandro, Rowena's infant boy cried out, making me jump. "You _are_ joining us?" I asked uncertainly, realising I had lead him here without finding out whether he was indeed joining the Tithe'd caravan. Tristan nodded, sitting down with his back against a tree, closing his eyes. Not another word passed his mouth, leaving me stood there, looking at him. Finally; "Do you normally watch people when they are trying to sleep?" I fled back to my own fire and the safety of my brother and Galian. As Galian's arm snuck around my waist, yanking me back to him, I was not annoyed. I was comforted, for Tristan was slightly frightening. He was a born killer, and I felt shaken by his introduction. Closing my eyes, I leant back into Galian's warm weight, thankful I had such a friend as he.


	8. Memories and Home Reborn

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_Disclaimer: Not mine, aside from my own characters and the plot;if you want to see the full thing, it's on the Introduction! _

Chapter 8-Memories and Home Reborn.

The mist fell like a horrid, threatening cloak over the whole caravan. I could feel the unease of the other people, especially Dock, with whom I was riding. Tristan rode ahead, his presence ever known to me. After he'd joined the caravan, some months ago now, he'd been a complete mystery to me. Curt and monosyllabic, he only really spoke in length to Hafgan, another young man. Hafgan was similar to me, red haired and dark eyed, he was very similar to Tristan. I supposed we were all alike. Shaking my head to clear it of thoughts of the sullen scout, I couldn't help but look around to check on everyone.

It was seven months now. Seven months since I'd left the tribe. Seven months since we'd been together. The Romans had changed somewhat, some of them talking to us, others hating us more with every passing nightfall. The Sarmatians on one side of the camp, the Romans on the other was how it usually went, with occasional mingling. I shivered, drawing myself deeper into my hood, a chill racing up my spine. This mist felt unnatural.

Dock looked over at me, before asking kindly, "You alright, Dax? Not getting a chill?" I shook my head, pushing my hair behind my ears under my hood. Findabair rode on my other side, conversing with Galahad. She'd taken quite a shine to the young boy, showing him how to wield a sword, shoot a bow. The last thing that I'd seen her teaching him was how to string his bow, a huge thing that he couldn't have hoped to draw yet. Bair had taken her time with him, showing him how to bind the leather at the tops and how to wrap the string once the bow had served its purpose. I smiled softly-it was about time someone showed him the ropes. Memories flooded around me like the fog, and I thought back in consternation to the morning after Tristan had joined the camp.

"_Dax? Time to get up." Galian had whispered to me, shaking me gently, sliding out from under me to stand, stretching. I grumbled. I didn't want to get up-I had a pounding headache and my eyes hurt. Han crouched down next to me, I could feel his hand on my forehead, stroking my hair back from my face. "Little Fire, we have to go. Are you alright?" _

"_She's tired. Up late." Sniped another voice. My insides turned cold. It was him. I opened my eyes, squinting, annoyed. Han had the same expression; glaring at Tristan. The young man stood over me and my brother, a cocky expression on his face. "And you are?" Han asked coldly, helping me up. I stood slightly behind my brother, for once in my life, unsure of what I should do. "I am Tristan." Without another word, he strode off, leaving Han to turn to me, an incredulous look on his face. When I didn't reply, he merely sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes and muttering, "Women." This barb stung me a little, but it was more the intense likeness to father in his movements that truly caught my attention. I saw my fathers' warm eyes in his, the firm set to his stubbled jaw; however, mothers face showed a little in his high cheeks and slender mouth. My family didn't seem so far away. They were here with me, reflected strongly in Han. I narrowed my eyes. I was daydreaming again. After my vow on the hills as I rode Gawain and his sister to the caravan with Bair, I had been made of rock. Seemingly cold. This I knew, and I was not proud of. The rare moments I smiled were when the weather lightened in a brief respite from the cold winds and driving rains. As I stood and watched Tristan walking away, I felt some part of me regret my stony choice, but I also knew that in the heart of a Solider, there was no room for this love. _

"Look at it!" Dock yelped, standing in his stirrups. "It's huge! Where does it end?" I already knew the answer, standing in my own stirrups to survey the vast expanse of sea. It was sort of like returning home. The smell of the sea invaded my nose, and I breathed deeply, closing my eyes, fancifully wishing that I was at the cliffpoint at home, a stop we went to quite often. It was my beach, full of cliffs to climb and caves to explore.

"Britain." I muttered, sinking back into the saddle, my limbs and heart weighty. Bair rested a hand on Galahad's shoulder as the boy looked out over the sea, his eyes wide with fright. He'd probably never seen any stretch of water this big. The rest of the caravan caught up, and mutters of wonder rang out in the misty air. Galian called from behind me, "It's just like home!" I grinned in my hood's shadow. How alike we sometimes were. The Romans were smiling, pointing at the ships in the harbour that seemed so small below us. The Captain turned to us, bellowing, "In twos, the lot of you! We'll be collecting two others from the town, and we'll sail tonight! I want you all to stay together, and look smart! Not as though you're bunch of motherloving babes, which," he yelled, malice in his tone, "MOST OF YOU ARE!" Dock bristled beside me, and I shared his sentiments, my anger flaring hot against my skin at this statement. Dock shook his head, falling in beside me, as I guided my horse behind Bair and Galahad. I could hear Cadman complaining to a boy called Jols about the Romans, making him laugh somewhere behind us. Galian and Han rode behind Dock and I, Finn and Adair behind them, together, the caravan stretched back a long way, with Brenna and Therin at the back, and Tristan and Hagan together at the front of the Sarmatians, behind the Romans. Dock turned to me as we neared the town, listening to the daily life of the port.

"What do you think it'll be like down there? I've never been to a port." I narrowed my eyes, silent for a moment.

"If it's anything like the ports I've seen along the Sarmatian Coast, keep your hands on your valuables." I said finally, releasing my breath with a whoosh. Dock straightened in his saddle, suddenly looking scared. I caught his movements and felt a bit guilty. It wasn't so bad, as long as you knew how to handle yourself.

"I'll keep an eye out, Dock. No worries." I said consolingly, before silencing to let Dagonet shout to the boy from beside Bors, further up the caravan.

Reaching the port was a noisy affair. The Roman guards at the gate began a ridiculous display of marching and shield banging as we approached, before finally coming to a stop with their spears over crossed at the gate. "Who are you, and what is your business?" Barked one in a bored tone. I struggled to stifle a snigger as Han whispered behind me, "We're here to serve your sorry arse and our business in sailing, you dolt."

"Silence back there!" Screamed the Captain, twisting in his saddle before turning back to the Guard. "I am Centurion Gaius's first Captain, returned from Sarmatia on the Tithe's collection of service. Our business is to sail to Britain." He grumped importantly, bringing out a collection of sniggers and snorts from the rest of us. He was so full of himself; I struggled to find a reason not to burst out laughing. After a few moments, the gates swung open, and our new world was thrown before us in all it's mock splendour.

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	9. Hidden Attack

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* * *

Chapter 9-Hidden Attack

I couldn't believe what I'd just seen. A man had swallowed four swords, carefully sliding them down his throat. The crowds around me yelled and cheered, watching as the man slid them back out. I watched in morbid fascination as the blade slid up his neck, the edge visible against the skin from the inside.

"Strange, isn't it?" Asked a soft voice beside my ear. I jumped, thinking it was a thief about to slice my purse from my belt. I knocked my elbow back to try and hit the speaker in the ribs. Before my arm made contact, it was clutched, hard and twisted up behind me, bringing a flaring agony through my shoulder. I refused to cry out, instead biting my lips so hard I could taste the coppery tang of blood. I stretched onto my toes, trying to give me some extra height; instead, the attacker clamped a hand over my mouth, dragging me backwards into a slim, dark alleyway. Silently, I cursed myself for standing at the back of the crowd, so near to such an easy attack spot. Fear hammered my heart against my ribs, and I screeched angrily into the mucky hand that silenced me, kicking my heels back as pure fear took over my fighting instincts, my ankle catching momentarily, sharply on the cobbles. I was dragged further back, my arm now twisted so badly I was sure it would break, agony springing tears to my eyes and blurring the steadily vanishing crowd. My other arm was clamped to my side, useless, as the-was it a man? He was too strong to be a woman-dragged me back, his other arm around my waist.

"Let her go."

I stopped moving, whimpering in pain as I was dropped, my arm twisted under me as I landed on my back. The attacker was looking at something back the way we had come, but I didn't look, I already knew who was there.

"Go. And if I see you near her again, I'll kill you."

The mans ugly, pockmarked face swelled in anger, and a knife appeared in his hand. My senses were quickly returning, and I realised in horror that my ankle had twisted as well as my arm, I couldn't run anywhere. Struggling to sit up, dragging myself back as I did, I could feel my heart trying to escape my chest, my arm aching as I pulled it around to my front, unable to put any weight on the stricken limb. "The girlie'd fetch a good price!" Snarled the man, sneering at Tristan, twisting his knife idly in his fingers. "She's goin' to the slavers!" Anger boiled up through my fear and pain, fury at being reduced to a scared little girl rather than the fighting woman I was. Bringing my good foot to lash out at the man's legs, I yelled, the man's own scream mingling in disastrous harmony with my own. He fell on me, crushing the breath out of my lungs with his weight and stink. I couldn't understand at first why he wasn't moving, until I managed to roll him off my legs and pained ankle with a sharp gasp. A dagger was lodged in between his eyes, buried up to the hilt, a tiny trickle of blood edging over his glazing eyes. I sat, leaning with my back against the wall, staring. I'd never looked at a dead man's eyes, and in them I saw the ending of the world. The pain from my shoulder, arm and ankle faded as I stared, the noise from the crowds "Ooh's" and "Aaah's." fading from my ears. I frowned, shaking my head. I had to stop this! Where was the stony young woman I had promised to be? Taking a deep breath, I slid my good leg under me and pushed up from the ground with my good arm, tottering to my feet. Leaning against the wall, I looked to Tristan for something, anything…he wasn't there. They alleyway was empty. I groaned, leaning my head back against the wall, closing my eyes. I decided that I needed to get back to the inn. We sailed in a few hours, and I had to prepare. Stopping a rising whimper in my throat, I hobbled towards the end of the alley, leaning against the wall with one hand as I shambled along. My the pain in my arm was fading, the pain now only a slight ache, my ankle was flaring up, but the injury wasn't serious.

"Dax! Dax! What happened?" Dock came rushing towards me, panicked and red-cheeked, as though he'd run a distance. He was closely followed by Han and Adair. The relief in my bones shamed me. Dock flung himself at me, hugging me hard, pushing my weight onto my ankle. I gasped and staggered, Han grabbing me before I fell. Dock instantly let go, dropping to his knees to look at my ankle. "I'm so sorry!" Dock whispered, looking up, guilt in his young eyes. "I should have checked you were still around! I should have taken more notice!" Adair knelt by the body of the man, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the dagger. "Dax? You did this?" I shook my head, pulling Dock up gently, hugging him. "It was Tristan." Adair looked surprised, before smoothing out his features and nodding. "I'll go and find him and then the Centurion. They should be told." Han swung me up into his arms, just like Father used to. "Go tell them, and tell Tristan _I_ want a word with him. Dock, can you run back to the inn and get healing stuff ready?" Dock took off like an arrow from a bow, and Adair strode away, leaving Han to walk me back to the inn. "Han, put me down. I can actually walk you know." I grumped as Han walked us out into the sunlight, into the view of the crowds. Han frowned, not saying anything as we headed towards the inn. I frowned, wondering whether he was mad at me. I voiced this thought. Han took a moment to answer as I slunk further into his arms, thinking of home. "He likes you." I stiffened.

"What?"

"Tristan likes you. It's obvious." My stomach churned. "Don't be so silly, Han!" I exclaimed, "It's just yo-…"

"Don't. It's not just me. I don't mind. Just…be careful. He's strange."

The rest of the journey was spent in silence.

* * *

Dock strapped my ankle soundly, warm, wet herbs soothing the ache. My shoulder had no strapping, and I simply didn't move it too much, confident that it would heal in a few days. The Centurion, Gaius Maximus, stood in front of me, glowering. Dock slunk out of the room after he was done, looking scared.

"So what happened." I sighed. I'd been through this again and again.

"I told you, _My Lord, _I was in the market with Dock, at the back of a crowd. I was grabbed from behind, had my arm twisted, and was dragged up an alley. I twisted my ankle, and then.."

"Tristan rescued you." I flushed, nodding. Maximus sighed, nodding. "Right. Well, you're here now. Not on some slaving vessel, so I don't see any need of concern." I bristled. "What if the same thing happens to someone younger, and they don't have someone there to help them!" I cried, trying to stand up. After failing miserably, I slumped onto the bed, looking up at the sneering Roman. "You will not have to worry, we sail in an hour." I looked at my lap, trying to contain the anger boiling inside me. Maximus left without another word. Dock reappeared and began to tidy things up, packing away his herbs. I sat, silent on the bed, closing my eyes to the raging headache I could feel building in my skull. "Dock?"

"Hmm?"

"You don't have anything for headaches, do you?" The boy nodded and left again. I sighed, lying back. All of our horses had been stored on another ship, already sailing. We, the Sarmatians were travelling under Roman guard to the port on another ship. The door opened and closed; Dock had returned. Sitting up, I was faced with Tristan. My stomach descended into the familiar roiling turbulence I felt when he was around.

"You told them." The simple statement rendered me silent. What was I supposed to have done? Lied?

"Yes." I said finally.

"Why?"

I frowned, looking past him to the closed door, wondering whether Dock was going to return quickly. "Was it supposed to be a secret?" I asked angrily. Tristan crossed to me, expression dark. I raised an eyebrow coldly, looking up at him. Suddenly, his lips pressed to mine, hard. His hands gripped my hair in a firm and gentle grip. As suddenly as the contact came, it went, and I was left looking at an open door as the scout walked away. I pressed my fingers to my mouth, eyes wide. What had just happened?


	10. Bother

Somewhat angsty chapter people, sorry…

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Chapter 10-Bother

It was harsh disciplining on my own behalf that kept my tears in check as Dock returned. I was confused, tired, angry, aching, and desperately in need of another woman to talk to. I couldn't get the scout's face from my head. His dark braids and eyes, the pale cheekbones with etched tattoos. What had just passed between us?

Dock was sweet, fussing around and apologising profusely, his young face so innocent to what the Romans would bring to us. I smiled sadly, knowing tears welled in my eyes.

After Han and Galian had walked with me onto the ship, I leant against the rail, shuddering in my thick furs, the cold wind slapping my cheeks. I didn't bother looking back to the port, as so many of the others were doing. I stood alone, dark in my thoughts and feelings. The rolling of the deck under my unsteady feet sent me with a sharp gasp towards the floor, I braced myself against the hit, waiting for the inevitable shock; the shock that didn't come. Warm arms grabbed me and hauled me back up by my midriff. "Careful. Don't want to bruise that pretty face." Finn grinned as he leaned against the rail beside me, the wind gusting his hair into his eyes. My stomach rolled with the decks as he smiled, something I supposed he knew would make any woman weak at the knees. "I'm not pretty." I said finally, shutting away any feeling that I might have had. Finn chuckled, watching me lean back against the rail, staring out into the wide, cold seas. "I think you are."

"You're clearly weak in the head." I retorted with a snort, brushing my hair from my face, tucking it behind my ears so the wind could not catch it again. Finn frowned a little, studying me. "What's wrong?" This startled me a little. Finn was not normally one to offer compassion or concern for others. Even in the evening training sessions the Romans had held as we travelled, (something I suppose their clever centurion had devised to save time with training.) he showed little other emotion than cockiness and self assurance.

"Nothing, I'm fine." Finn snorted in derision.

"Right. Of course you are. Daxera, everyone knows about the attack. Is that what's bothering you?" Annoyance bubbled up. Yet again. Somewhere in my head I was amused at myself; I seemed to spend most of my time in an angry or dark mood.

"Finn, I'm fine." I grated, grinding my teeth together to stop myself from saying something harsh; after all, he was only trying to be nice. Finn straightened, pushing a hand through his hair. With a last glance, he sighed and walked away. I listened to his footsteps with a smile; even the cocky Finn wasn't totally steady on his feet at sea. Rowena and Melva were the next to come over. Rowena didn't say anything for a moment, leaning her hands on the rail, her son strapped across her chest in a sling. Melva did something I wasn't expecting at all. She threw her arms around me and squeezed tightly. "You know we'll always listen." She mumbled breathlessly once she'd finished trying to break my ribs. I merely nodded, my brown eyes wide as I looked at the normally shy young woman. Rowena smiled, the warmness in her eyes returning my thoughts to home. "Daxera, you are not alone. Should you need advice or comfort, Melva and I are here for you to talk to." I could feel my eyes filling up for what felt like the hundredth time that day. I nodded, not trusting my voice. They left me alone, and I took the opportunity to stagger off the deck and down into the hold where our belongings were stored. Flinging myself down into the furs of Galian's, Han's and my own pack, I buried my nose in the familiar smell of home and let the tears fall. What was wrong with me? Why was I feeling like this? I knew, deep, deep down that it was silly, that getting this muddled over a man was a stupid idea, especially as he was going to be fighting alongside me. Who knew whether or not he would live? And this ridiculous crying all the time would have to stop too. I was going to get a reputation as a weak willed maiden. My thoughts returned, once again, to the scout. "Why are you tormenting my thoughts?" I asked the furs with a groan. "Why can't I just be left alone?"

"You'd never survive. That's why. You'd turn to stone." Came a defeated voice from behind me. I twisted from my slump on the furs, eyes searching the dark, narrowed and irritated. A young man stepped from a pile of belongings; Gawain. Strangely, he looked red-eyed. Similar to myself, I should suspect.

"And stone is not more…" I forced myself to keep my tone bland, "..adequate? It's easier not to feel." I finished. Gawain laughed brutally, a lost, hollow sound.

"No, Dax. I know. Trust me." I smiled coldly, opening my mouth to say something, when the blonde Sarmatian held up a hand. Silenced, I watched him make his way over to me, unsteady with the movement of the boat. Above, I heard cursing, and grinned inwardly as I heard Bors throwing up, shouting the whole time. Gawain settled himself beside me, knees drawn up to his chest, arms resting on them.

"My mother died when Arlana was eight. I was ten. Father re-married a woman in the tribe, she was nice enough, but she wasn't my mother. I grew hard and detached. Even Arlana didn't get through to me for a long time. And you know what? Inside I was crying."

I looked at him, shocked. Gawain merely looked ahead, as if ignoring my presence.

"I wandered around a lot, on my own, not accepting Mother's death and hating Goena for loving my Father, and hating my Father for loving her. I felt as though the world was turning against me. It wasn't, but that's how it felt. My Mother had been taken from me and replaced by a woman who, I thought, was in no possible way even close to her. I killed my first man when I was twelve. Pure anger drove my arm, and when I walked home, I didn't look at anyone. It was Arlana that I saw." He went silent. Looking at his knees and clenching his hands tightly. I looked at him, pity flowing in my icy blood. "What did you see?" I asked softly, placing a hand on his arm.

"She was scared of me. I was covered in blood, but even after I washed it off, she wouldn't come near me. She accused me of being a monster, screamed at me, calling me no brother of hers. I saw loss. I'd lost my sister. Not once had I thought about how mother's death had affected her. I was so selfish, I'd turned to rock." My hand slipped from Gawain's arm. Never had I thought that the blonde knight so deeply scarred inside.; he was always so cheerful, smiling and laughing. Making jokes with Cadman and Macklin; jokes about Cadman's 'woman'. Some poor girl he called his "Sweetyheart." Never had I thought he had been distanced form his sister, they seemed so close. Gawain looked at me, tears shining in his bright blue eyes. "I'm scared, Dax." I shifted uncomfortably. I wasn't the best person to come to for sympathy or wise words; I was just me, I was of no great skill but killing.

"Of what?" I asked finally, reaching to wipe the tears from his face. Gawain went red, looking away again. "Who's going to look after Arlana if I die? She can't fight, her knees are bad. She can't run for long, or do anything too hard." I felt a great wave of sadness fill me. He was right. There was no one for her.

A sudden thought struck me. "I'll look after her, Gawain." I offered, hopeful. Gawain smiled thankfully. He just nodded at me, and stood up. Raising his eyes to the roof of the hold, he grinned as he heard both Brenna, the sulky healer and Bors hollering as sea sickness claimed their stomachs. "I'm going to the deck. You coming?" I shook my head, lying back. "I want to get some sleep, I'm tired from todays… exertions." Gawain looked concerned for a moment, but my reassuring glance had him climbing the ladders in moments.

Lying back, I closed my eyes, rolling onto my side, moving myself about until I was comfortable. I could feel sleep creeping up on me, and in the warm air of the hold, I snoozed on and off, waiting for the DreamKing to take me. Footsteps descended the ladder, but I remained half asleep, unconcerned; there were no enemies on this ship. The furs shifted, and warm arms encircled me, pulling me back to a warm chest. "Mmn." I mumbled, settling in. "Galian, I know you're getting used to this," I muttered, jokingly, "But you're really getting too big for a comfort blanky. 'specially as it's me." Warm breath shifted the hair at me ear as a familiar voice whispered, "I'm not Galian, Daxera."

Mwuahahaha! I shall leave it there! Who is it? Review and tell me who you think it is, and I shall try to update as soon as poss! Thankee!


	11. The World Is On Fire

This chapter is named after a song I absolutely adore, called The World's On Fire, by Sarah McLachlan. Tell me if you've heard of it and can see what I mean!

P.S, Please forgive my typos, I try to find them, but a few of the buggers always get through!

Reviewers:

My wonderful reviewers!

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: I don't know where I'm going with Dax and Tristan to be honest! I'm just writing on impulse! And Jah! I am evil! grin

Sinned Darkness: Thank you! I aim to please :-), enjoy this chapter!

ElvenStar5: Thank you! Possibilities galore!

Ailis-70; Sorry I'm such a meanie! I'm pleased I had your mind buzzing though!

I though I should add Gawain's confessions into it as a sort of warning to Dax about what could happen if she became cold and heartless, thanks for your thoughts!

Chapter 11- The World's On Fire

"Tristan?" I whispered, lying totally still, all traces of drowsiness gone. The man took a deep breath, sighing as he pressed his lips to the back of my neck.

"What are you doing to me? Are you some sort of Goddess that commands my attention? Or something else? I can't stop looking for you, Daxera." Tristan mumbled before rolling away. I spun over quickly, looking at him, studying him as he leant back on his haunches. Tristan grinned in the gloom, his teeth gleaming in the semi-dark. I shivered a little, he was feral, strong. It scared me in some ways…and excited me in others. "I'll be watching out for you…Little Fire. Get some sleep before we dock, you're tired from today." I nodded, struck dumb by Han's nickname rolling from his mouth. Tristan stood and left, silent in his movements. I wondered whether his entrance was to warn me he was coming in. I closed my eyes tightly and took a deep, calming breath. When he was around… "_The world is on fire…"_ I whispered to the gloom, grateful that everyone else was on deck. Laying my head back down, it wasn't long before sleep claimed me, and I drifted with the sea into dreams of dark eyes warriors and fleeting touch.

* * *

"…Dax…wake up, we're nearing the shore…" I groaned, heaving a blanket over my head. "Sod off."

"Dax, come on-,"

"Mnnn! No! Leave me 'lone!" I mumbled as Dock yanked the blanket from my grasp and stood over me. "I'll get Dag to carry you out and throw you into the shallows…" He threatened. I grinned inside. Dock had been getting more and more boisterous as the weeks went on. "Alright, alright, I'm up." I muttered, rolling to my knees and then swaying to my feet. "You're horrible, you know that?" I growled mock-angrily at the beaming boy. Dock poked his tongue out and dashed off to answer Bors' yell. I ran a hand tiredly through my hair, offering a nod to Cadman, Gawain and Therin, who were gathering everyone's belongings to take above. Throwing as much as I could over my own uninjured shoulder, I climbed, blinking into the sunlight. Or, semi-light. The island before us was dark and uninviting; almost accusing us of coming somewhere we didn't belong. Adair took the heavy bags from my shoulder as I staggered upright in the deck, muttering something about straining myself. I scowled, turning my back to look around at the others. My frown was instantly flipped over. Bors and Brenna stood, hands fervently clutching their bellies leaning over the side of the ship. Macklin stood with them, advising them not to hold it in, just let the vomit go. As much as I liked Bors, the sight of such a huge man doubled over at the sea made me smile. "Brenna hasn't stopped squealing since we left the dock." Adair said, frowning at her. I remembered the slightly queasy feeling in my own belly at the ships departure, and felt a little sorry for her.

"Hasn't Dock been able to give them anything?" I asked, turning away to descend the ladder, Adair following. "He tried," He grunted, dropping the last few feet to thud beside me, "But neither of them could keep it down." I grimaced in the dark, looking to see what else could be brought up onto the deck. There wasn't much left, only four packs and a pair of saddles. Heaving a pack and saddle over my shoulder, I felt a twinge in the other. Adair was already halfway up the ladders, so I rubbed my shoulder before he could look down and see me; with a sign, I followed suit, wondering what Britain would have in store for us…

…The answer? A Roman man stood on the docks, waiting for us. A tall, large woman stood with him; it was she that caught my eye more than the Roman. The reason? She stood half a head taller. She was dressed for battle. I grinned as Dagonet drew a sharp breath behind me. We stood in twos, Dock and I together as usual. As the planks thudded down, we move together like cattle to the slaughter, onto the foreign turf.

"Welcome, Sarmatians, to Britain." The man welcomed. Looking at him closely, I could see his huge green eyes were nervous. He was only young, about twenty summers by my estimate. Curly, thick hair framed his face, and while he was broad of chest and shoulder, and quite tall, he seemed small and slight next to the towering woman beside him. Grinning again to myself, I listened to his voice-

" My name is Artorius Castus, I am to be your Commander at your outpost. We will spend a year in training, and then your service as fighters begins." Everyone stood silent. I looked at Han, he stood, face impassive, looking a lot like father. I narrowed my eyes, his jaw was twitching; he was angry. Galian though, piped up, "Where are we out posted?" Artorius smiled grimly,

"Hadrian's Wall."

* * *

That night was a somewhat quiet affair. After a joyous reunion with Testy, who promptly bit me as I tugged him away from the grass he was trying to make himself ill on, it began to rain. I thought the rain in Sarmatia was bad. The rain here was harsh, freezing, and pelting. It was summer.

"Gaaah! This for fifteen years!" Wailed Cadman, "My Sweetyheart won't know me when I return!"

"Who _is_ this woman, Cad?" Finn asked curiously, leaning back against the tree he was sat at the foot of, shivering in his thick cloak. Therin, Arlana, Brenna and Melva all sighed behind me as he brushed his curls out of his eyes. I couldn't blame them; I'd bed him! I kept my face stoic though, instead looking to Cadman, who slumped at the edge of the fire. Cadman smiled, a proper, beaming grin. Whoever this woman was, he was smitten. I shook my head slightly, he boy was thirteen summers, he would meet many other woman in Britain. I wondered how long this Sweetyheart would remain the Sarmatian woman.

I slowly lost interest in his description, which mainly seemed to involve breasts, looking around interestedly. Hafgan and Tristan had been sent to scout ahead for three days, and had been told to wait for the rest of us once they reached 'Londinium', wherever that was. My eyes flicked over the shadows, nothi-wait.

Artorius stood in the shadows, or rather, knelt. I lurched to my feet-we'd rode straight from the port, not resting or bathing, simply riding. I waved Han down; he'd stood with me, and walked through the mud to our kneeling Commander.

"What _are_ you doing?" I asked, confused. Artorius looked up sharply, rainwater running down his face. My bewildered face must have been a sight, for he smiled and rose, pulling his hood up around his face. "I was praying." I frowned, getting his point. I'd heard of this Religion, Christianity, spreading over the world by the hand of the Romans. From what I'd heard, it was an excuse to take money from the poor and labelling it tax.

"You're Christian." I said, nodding. "Sorry I disturbed you." I turned to walk away again. Artorius clamped a hand on my shoulder, gentle but firm, "I-.." His hand left my shoulder, and I turned to look at him. He blushed, looking down, hiding his face under his hood. "What's wrong?" I asked, stepping closer to peer under the hood at his green eyes. Artorius looked up, licking his lips. "I don't want us, "He motioned to all of the knights, "To be Commander and Soldiers. I want us to be friends." The sincerity in his eyes warmed my heart a little against this cold land, and I nodded.

"You'll have to earn it, Sir, but, for the most part, you have my friendship." I answered honestly.

"My friends call me Arthur," He grinned, "You're Dax, aren't you? Lancelot pointed you out to me, along with some others." I smiled, motioning for his to walk to the fire with me. "You've met Lancelot, me, and who else?"

"That's it, so far," He admitted, as he sat beside me. The others went quiet, looking in distrust at Arthur. Lancelot grinned and passed him a water skin. Arthur took it gingerly, looking nervously around. After he'd taken a sip, the others began to talk again, normality returning. Lancelot scooted over the fire to sit on Arthur's other side, and so we became friends. A soft sound caught my ears, singing.

"_-you'd be my Greenwood Laddie,_

_Who I'd always adore,"_

Twisting around, I looked at Rowena, who sat near us, rocking her child to sleep, singing softly. Gently, for the child must have been sleeping, Rowena lowered him into the basket she carried on her back, pulling the oilcloth cover over.

"Rowena! You never told any of us you could sing!" I yelped, looking at her with consternation. Had she told us, it would have made the journey a little more interesting at nights. Rowena blushed, sting down beside me, trying to ignore the calls to sing from the others. "Please?" Dagonet begged, as did Dock. I nudged her, "Go on, please?" The campfire fell silent, all eyes on Rowena as she began to sing:

"_If you'd seen my dearest, whose eyes they shine the clearest  
His cheeks like the red blood, new dropped in snow  
He is neat, tall and tender, his hands soft and slender  
He'll be my greenwood laddie wherever he goes_

_My parents, my darling, they slight you with scorn  
Because you have no riches wrapped up in stone  
But the more that they slight you, the more I invite you  
To be my greenwood laddie whom I'd always adore_

_For if I had the wealth of the East or West Indies  
Or if I had the gold of the African shore  
Or if I could gain thousands, I'd nest on your bosom  
And you'd be my greenwood laddie and the boy I adore_

_It's down by yonder bower, I spend many's the long hour  
A-pulling the flowers by yon clear winding shore  
It was his stolen kisses caused my fondest wishing, as  
You know he'll be my greenwood laddie and the boy …_

_If you had seen my dearest whose eyes they shine the clearest  
His cheeks like the red blood, new dropped in snow  
He is neat, tall and tender, his hands soft and slender  
He'll be my greenwood laddie wherever he goes"_

Amid the clapping and cheering, I looked at Han, tears bright in my eyes: it was the song my Mother used to sing. Home suddenly seemed so very, very far away.

* * *

Hope you liked, the song "Greenwood Laddie" is a folksong, I'm not sure it could have been around at their time, but hey, I like it. Please review, I'd like to know what you thought. 


	12. Fort Living

Reviewers;

Ailis-70: Yay! Happydancing! Well, Dax is...astray in this chapter, and sshh! You're guessing things you shouldn't! Enjoy!

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Thankee! Enjoy this'un!

This chapter is mainly Dax's thoughts and a sort of set up for later chapters. It's got memories and an introduction to life at the fort on Hadrian's Wall, (if you Google Vindolanda, it comes up with the fort, and that's where I'm basing them)

I'll also be mentioning the other 17 Forts that were placed along the Wall, if you keep your eyes open! Won't happen until later chapters though.

Chapter 11-Fort Living

I lay on my bed, silent, staring at the ceiling, which was illuminated in the cold winter moonlight, wrapping my blanket further around me and thinking about my first year, trying to ignore Venetia's snores.

The first month at Hadrian's Wall could have been accurately described as Hell. Or whatever it is these Christians call it. We were stationed at a Fort called Vindolanda, a large fort with plenty of barrack room. Everyone was pushed to the limit, the Roman trainers pushing the younger ones around, and a few of the elder men, including Bors and Dagonet. I'll never forget the sight of Dagonet clouting a guard for hitting Dock as he was trying to bandage his leg. No one bothered Dock after that. I didn't see much of the boy, being in training most of the time, and sleeping or eating every spare moment. I shared a room with Venetia, the woman with whom Arthur had been standing at the harbour. She was fast becoming one of my closest friends. Venetia understood that I didn't talk that much, and merely chattered away to me anyway, only asking for my opinion occasionally. Other than that, I rarely saw her, not waking as she came into the room, and myself not waking her, should I come in late from a training session. It seemed that everyone was being trained for war, not service, made to think that it would be any moment that we were attacked, which, I supposed, it was.

The days were long; the summer in this place was humid and warm, making for sticky training and hard-won sleep. Everyone was tense. Arthur was doing his best to see that we were treated with respect and equality, but that didn't stop some of the more…foolhardy Romans.

In the first week of our arrival at the Fort, there were twelve fights between Sarmatians and Romans. Venetia broke a man's arm when he was caught trying to drag Brenna out of the infirmary, Lancelot and Gawain fought with a stablehand at the treatment of their destriers, Dagonet clouted a man for hitting Dock, Hafgan stabbed a man in the hand when the foolish thief had gone for his purse, and then there was the women.

The women of our group, being Melva, Rowena, Venetia, Therin, Brenna, Arlana, Findabair and me were all fairly capable of looking after ourselves. The bar was the worst, one night called itself into my dreams for weeks after the incident.

"_Dax! Venetia! Help me!" I bolted upright from my seat, looking for Rowena, who's voice I'd heard. Venetia stood up beside me, towering over me. "There." She growled, pointing. Rowena was struggling on the lap of a Roman, who simply laughed and tried to grope at her. With a cry of rage, Rowena tried to slap him, but the tiredness of training and looking after her son had given her little strength left; the Roman merely caught her wrist, bending it cruelly backwards. Venetia bellowed in rage, catching the other knights attention. As one, they stood, and uproar broke out. Soldiers swaggered up, holding clear sway in the small bar. No one moved as glares were exchanged. A gap stood in front of me, and I took it, sliding quickly into the mass of Romans and padding towards Rowena. Sliding my knife out of it's sheath at my waist, I locked my eyes on the Roman man who held Rowena, and before any of his companions noticed me, hunkered down behind his chair, reaching up to press the knife to his neck, whispering, "Let her go, or you die." Rowena stumbled from his grasp, swiftly regaining her strength and whipping her hand to his face with a resounding 'crack'. The noise broke the silence, and eyes turned to us. I stood, feeling a little afraid as Rowena swiftly made her way to her wailing son, leaving me with my knife at the Roman's neck. "Listen up, you lot." I growled finally, standing tall, "We are here to save your scrawny necks, so leave us alone," I pressed my knife harder to the man's neck, hearing him whimper as I broke the skin. "Or I'll find you, and make sure you'll never want to bed a woman again. Understood?" The Romans merely mumbled and most went back to their drinks, some choosing to leave instead. I breathed a sigh of relief, not looking back at the Roman man as I walked away (The Roman, Venetia told me later, was a quivering wreck) and slumping in my seat as soon as I reached it. Taking my drink in hand, I looked up, feeling eyes on me. Tristan, again. He'd taken to watching me, like he said he would. I found it rather disconcerting, really. There had been no more stolen kisses and words of longing, but I rationalised myself by thinking about all the training we'd all been put through. This was to continue for another eleven months. Then there was the patting of many hands on my back as my companions grinned and muttered words of encouragement. The next day was to hold harsh repercussions however. _

_The cat'o'nine tails bit into my back five times, while Arthur bellowed his injustice from behind bars. "She wasn't doing anything wrong!" He bellowed, slamming his hands against the cage, while at the same time trying to shrug off Lancelot, who was trying in vain to tug him away. "She threatened a soldier of Rome, for that, she needs to be punished." _

"_She was protecting one of the girls, who one of your Soldiers tried to violate!" Arthur almost screamed. By now, most of the Knights had gathered to the bars, muttering and angry. Rowena, I remember, looked pale, and whispered "I'm so sorry…" when I met her gaze. "Nine.." I closed my eyes, feeling nauseous. "Ten…" My knees were feeling weak. Why wasn't it the standard five lash punishment?_

"_Eleven." _

"_Enough!" Bair and Venetia yelled together as my vision began to weaken too, _

"_Twelve!" I sagged against the ropes, pain running afire in my veins as the blood cascaded down my back. I would not scream. I couldn't let the Roman bastards know how much this was hurting. Three more lashes fell before they stopped. Arthur was released from behind the bars, and swiftly ran to me, yelling for someone to get Dock to prepare a room. I could barely stand. As the ropes were cut from my hands, I felt power rushing back to my legs. I stood as tall as I could, watching with cold eyes as Han rushed in, yelling and threatening the Roman who'd lashed me, brandishing his sword. The Roman turned, holding a horsewhip, lashing out. It hit Han in the face, making his head whip to the side. I growled as an angry red welt marked my brother's cheek, and I reached out to him, stumbling out of Bair's grip and towards him. With a glare at the Roman, Han dashed towards me, hugging me tightly, the wounds on my back making me whimper; I was ashamed. It was the only noise I'd made through the whole ordeal. As I was helped out of the compound, I looked up, feeling eyes on me. Tristan. Weeks later, the Roman who'd lashed me was found dead in the wilderness, having been separated from his group in a hunt. It was blamed on Woads, but I'd seen Tristan slip in late the night he'd been found. I was not horrified, but comforted. I had an avenger. _

* * *

I sighed. I shouldn't dwell so much on memories. I couldn't sleep, and at this hour, there would be little point in trying-I'd have to be at the training courts in two hours. I decided on a bath. Gathering my things quietly, so as not to wake Venetia (I highly doubted whether a full on battle would have woken her, but I was silent nonetheless…) I slipped out of the room and padded down the corridor to the bath house.

It was steaming inside. I breathed deeply, grateful for the heat in this cold, cold winter. Sliding out of the somewhat coarse breeches and scruffy, oversized linen shirt of my attire, I splashed gratefully into the heated water, letting the grime of a week break away from my skin. I was hampered slightly by my underclothes, a breast band and loincloth, but it was better than have a man walk in on me naked and unaware, than covered and unaware. There were no women's bath houses, there were times that the women were given to bathe, and should they chose to visit the bath house after those times, it was up to them to watch out for men. I frowned as I swiped a hand over my dirty face, examining it as it came away with muck running into the waters. It wasn't fair, really, but, in the same breath, the fort wasn't originally designed for family living. The hectic days we women lead with training, meant that none of the bathing times were available to us, and some of the girls, such was Brenna and Therin, just used the baths in the infirmary. Some of the men just didn't bathe. Galahad, much to Bair's annoyance, didn't like water at all, and stayed as far away from it as possible. It was only when he was accidentally knocked unconscious by Gawain in a practice sparring match that Bair grabbed the boy and ran, not to the infirmary, but to the bath house. Galahad hadn't spoken to Bair for a week. I grinned to myself, thinking over the past year. After the first month, it hadn't been so bad. After settling into training, it was soon apparent who was who and who did what. It was just like another family. I had new brothers, some of which flirted, but I didn't really mind, I had no intention of taking a lover. I had new sister, and I had a father figure in Dagonet, who was always there to listen. Dock was like a much loved younger brother to everyone, and especially to me. I'd come to love the warm-hearted boy unconditionally, always looking out for him.

"You're up early. I remember the times Venetia said she had to drag you out of bed by your feet."

Finn slid into the water, thankfully, I noted, still wearing his loincloth. I grinned at his muscular form-I couldn't wait to tell Therin and Arlana, Finn's biggest admirers, how he looked in the water. Fleetingly, a memory of Tristan in the bath house, an occasion that I felt should have gone down in the Roman Holy Calendar, flashed into my head, making me flush. I merely smiled and flicked water at him, adding, "I couldn't sleep." Finn gave me a knowing look and settled back, lying his head against the dry stones and spreading his arms out to either side. I almost gasped, seeing muscles ripple and flex on his marble skin, his handsome face in ecstasy of the hot water. "Dax, I know you can't keep your eyes off me, but please, no drooling." Finn said a moment later, opening his eyes and tilting his head at me, letting his curls fall into his face. I scowled, embarrassed at being caught in the act of open desire. I stood, the water draining off me to my hips, where the droplets met the water again. "You know how handsome you are, don't flaunt it. It's not becoming." I sniped as I made my way to the edge of the pool, heading in the general direction of my clothing. Finn chuckled behind me, muttering, "You know you want me." I grinned wolfishly, looking back at him, "Damn right," I said clearly, looking across at him, "But anyhow, I must be going!" I simpered, adopting the air of an aloof Roman Lady. I was about to climb out, when arms encircled my waist, pulling my whip-scarredback to a warm chest and searching lips on the back of my neck, just like Tristan all those months ago on the crossing to Britain. "Maybe we can do something about that, hmm, Dax?" Finn whispered lustily in my ear. He was incredibly used to the tavern wenches throwing themselves at him, and I fought a quick internal battle before turning in his arms and slamming my mouth to his, enjoying the lust I could feel coming from his mouth as well as mine. I was dimly aware that we'd sunk down into the water again, myself on his lap, and I didn't care. I had no qualms about this whatsoever. I was in need of love, and Finn was offering. The loneliness I'd felt for the past year, even surrounded by my friends and comrades, was not what I needed, I needed Tristan, but there was nothing on that front. Finn however, seemed rather happy that I'd complied. Minutes later, we broke apart, both with bruised mouths and hammering hearts.

"Well then..." Finn gasped, "I gather you needed that!" I smirked, gently biting the skin below his ear as I slid off his lap. "Just to let you know that you can't always win in the battle for dominance." I laughed, gathering my clothes. Finn stood, and I was once again in awe of his frame. I was suddenly very aware that I was stood in my underclothes and he in his. If anyone were to enter now, it would make for very juicy gossip. "Not a word to the others, Finn." I added, then, seeing his slightly hurt glance, I added, "Though, if not a word gets out, you'll be richly rewarded." His handsome face broke out into a huge grin, and I shook my head, laughing as I walked into the changing room. As I left the bath house, I spotted Adair leaning casually against the latrine's wall. I could hear retching inside. I raised an eyebrow.

"Cadman had too much ale, and now he's talking to Cloacina." I smiled, patting Adair on the shoulder as I walked on, suddenly feeling a little lighter.

* * *

Ok, quick notes.: "You're up early. I remember the times Venetia said she had to drag you out of bed by your feet."-This is from my life! Dad actually had to do this on three occasions. I suppose I'm trying to humour the story a little.

"Cadman had too much ale, and now he's talking to Cloacina."-Cloacina was the Roman Goddess who presided over the toilet system. The main sewer system in Rome was called The Cloaca Maxima after her. The phrase "Talking to Cloacina." Came from a phrase my dad uses when there's mention of vomiting into the toilet. "Talking on the porcelain telephone" So I changed it a bit.

There's quite a lot of my Dad in this, isn't there?

Please Review!


	13. Vercovicivm Calls

Reviewers-

Ailis-70: I know, Dax shouldn't be substituting, but I think I'll explain that in a later chapter. You're getting ahead of me with the plot! You'll see what I mean at the end of the chapter, and thankee for your thoughts on the whipping scene. It took me a while to write that, I needed to find a way of doing it effectively. Poor mainstreet…lol. Enjoy this chapter!

Sinned Darkness- Yay for half naked muscular men! Glad you enjoyed it. I'm, letting Dax find her feet, so to speak, so she's having a bit of a midlife crisis in her teens, if you get what I mean. Enjoy the chapter!

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY-Thanks for the review!

Apologies-Quick notes. I didn't mention in the last chapters the Vindolanda is actually set back from the wall, a sort of training post of old, that is why the knights were there first. Vercovicivm, or, Housesteads, is the closest _wall_ fort. Sorry I didn't make it clear!

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Chapter 12-Vercovicivm Calls.

After meeting Adair, I listened to my stomach. It was asking whether my throat was slit.

Ambling towards the kitchens to scrounge an early breakfast, I glared up at the emerging sun. This place was unpredictable. The weather changed faster than Finn's new flirt, some days dark and gloomy, other days cold and raining some days sunny and humid. It was winter now though, and the sun was cold and uninviting. It was ever changing. The sun washed over me, drying my still wet skin through my thin shirt and clean linen breeches, I lifted my face to it, gleaning what little warmth I could. My hair was very long now, longer than I'd ever had it at home; almost down to the middle of my back, I could feel its weight as it dried, settling into what I was sure would be a mass of unruly and unmanageable red curls. The back of my shirt was soggy with the damp, and I twisted the mass up into a bun at the base of my neck, trying to ignore the small tendrils that hung around my face, small reminders that weapons training offered few chances for survival. The trainers were rarely sparing with us, and my choppy hair was a reminder that I didn't always move fast enough. Tucking the strands behind my ears, my fingers brushed the tribal tattoos on my check and neck. I smiled softly; I could never be mistaken for a Roman. Living in this place for almost a year had taught me several lessons, but the most important one was one that my brother had said to me after the flogging I'd received for the incident in the bar. _"Never forget who you are. Even if they flog you to death, remember; you are Daxera, daughter of Sarmatia." _I slunk around the corner into the kitchens, pondering Han's words. I hadn't spoken to him for two days, only catching fleeting glimpses of him as I passed from training ground to training ground. After watching the maids for a moment, I reached out and grabbed two apples; one for myself, and one for my huge destrier, Rendius. Testy had fallen sick with colic in the second month of our arrival, and despite the efforts of the stablehands, died. I hated and loved that horse, and was unsure of what to do with his carcass. In the end, I left it to the stablehands, instead busying myself with trying to find a new horse. The massive stallion had instantly caught my eye, a fierce and loving nature, shining black and grey, Rendius was my most loved friend. Ducking back out of the kitchens before anyone noticed me, I looked out over the compound. I could see Lancelot and Arthur walking into the stables, followed by Arlana and Jols, who'd become the stable hands. Jols was Arthur's squire, for reasons I wasn't sure of-he'd always looked capable as a fighter, but Arlana couldn't fight. Gawain's words rang through my head, the crossing to Britain a somewhat distanced memory, _"__She can't fight, her knees are bad. She can't run for long, or do anything too hard." _Arlana was limping, and I made a note to see Dock as soon as possible and ask him whether he could do anything for her. Crunching into the apple, I sighed in contentment as the juices ran in my mouth. Where they managed to keep apples at this time of year was beyond me, but I didn't really want to know, as long as they kept a supply handy. Happily munching, I jogged to the stables, the warmth from the horses a welcome after the stinging cold. I shivered, wishing I'd worn something other than the thin linen shirt and breeches. "Morning Arlana." I greeted as I walked past Adair's mare's stall, nodding to the pretty girl. "Jols." I added as he walked out from a stall opposite Arlana's. Arlana smiled; "Morning Dax."

"Morning."

Sliding into Rendius's stall, I grinned as the big horse pushed against me, knocking the apple in my hands eagerly. "Hey, Rend, pack it in you great brute." I laughed as he butted me with his nose, knocking me back into the wall. He merely whickered and proceeded to demolish the apple I held out for him. "He's my favorite." Arlana said, leaning against the stall door. "You're so lucky." She sighed moments later. I smiled gently. Arlana's knees meant that she couldn't ride. "I'll take you out on him later if you want." I offered, happy to see the gleeful light in her eyes as she nodded. Handing me the curry comb, she watched me working over Rendius, a soft light in her eyes. She was very like Gawain in some ways. Although her hair was lighter, they shared the same eye colour and occasional mannerisms. I'd kept my promise to her, whether she knew it or not. Standing with her as she left her tribe, I'd sworn never to let her be in fear alone. She and I had come to look forwards to our morning talks, knowing that I preferred to look after Rendius in the morning. "_For someone so silent_," she'd once said, "_you_ _never seem to be quiet with me_." I'd simply replied that she was one of the few people I would talk with freely. Occasionally, I'd be too busy with training, and Arlana would do it, but I was grateful for her forbearance with me and my obstinate regimes of horse care. "Guess what happened this morning." I whispered in a low voice as I furtively checked for signs of Arthur and Lancelot, who'd vanished in the gloom of the stables. Jols was at the other end, cleaning out a stall, and would not be able to overhear us. Arlana's eyes grew huge, and she slid into the stall with me, avoiding Rend's rear end before she slid down the door to sit in the hay. "I saw Finn in the baths." I murmured. She grinned, the foolish, lovesick look wafting over her eyes as it always did when anyone mentioned the handsome man. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I lied, not wanting to upset her and feeling somewhat disgusted with myself at my treatment of the man, "But oh hell, does he look the part in water." Arlana giggled, and I laughed a little myself, an indescribable bubble in my stomach making me feel very lightheaded. "He was in for an early bath, I suggest that you go early tomorrow, you might catch him." I joked, finishing the grooming finally. Arlana sighed as she stood, saying mournfully, "He'd never look twice at me.." I snorted, countering, "Arlana, you're gorgeous, you want him, you can get him." Arlana blushed, mumbling a thank you before excusing herself to get back to work. I smiled sadly at her retreating back. I envied her, she didn't have to fight all day every day. But, I reasoned, I was good at what I did, and while I was adequate at looking after my own horse, I didn't have the patience for everyone else's.

Arthur's voice interrupted my musings, coming from behind me. "Good morning Daxera."

"Morning Arthur," I said, turning to face him and Lancelot. "Lancelot." I acknowledged. Our band of Knights was full of heartbreakers, I decided. Lancelot was another one who would be at the tavern wenches constantly. He and Finn had a contest going to see who could bed the most women. While I was not totally for this idea, it certainly made for great entertainment. Lancelot's sharp planes of cheekbone and mass of curl dark hair were a contrast to Finn's blonde curls and bright green, welcoming eyes, but nonetheless, his boyish features were popular among the tavern girls. Lancelot nodded, looking sullen. I wondered whether he and Arthur had been arguing about God again. Arthur looked at him with a reprimanding face that soon softened into gentle forbearance; he could never stay angry at Lancelot for long. "There's a meeting today. After your morning practices meet at the Round Table." My mouth dropped. I closed it again instantly, smoothing my features out to platonic again, but not before I'd thought about the change this meant. Our routine had been going for a year now, and this was the only time it had ever changed. Something was either very wrong or we had ended our training. I was hoping for the latter. "Right, I'll tell the others should I see them." I said finally, turning to leave. "And Dax? Wrap up will you; you'll get a cold walking around with wet hair and clothes in this weather." I grinned; many of us had likened Arthur to a mother hen: he was always fussing over us and making sure that none of us were going to get sick or do anything stupid.

"Yes, Mother!" I called over my shoulder mockingly as I walked out, wrapping my arms around myself as I emerged once more into the cold air. I heard laughter behind me, and knew Lancelot was lightening up. I jogged back to the barracks, running along to the room I shared with Venetia, muttering "hello's" to the people I knew.

* * *

I don't know how Venetia didn't wake herself up snoring. Her lungs must have been cavernous to produce such a noise. For once, it was I that roused her, poking her gently in the back. I was unsure of how she would wake, having never done it before. I was wary after once seeing Bair, normally a calm, collected person, lash out and give Galahad a black eye for waking her up unexpectedly. She and the boy were very close, and he'd cried, thinking she was mad at him. I felt sorry for him, and wondered why they took such a young one as Bair hugged him and told him it was alright. He was still so young. Venetia grumbled and rolled over, facing me now. "G'way."

"Venetia, you have to get up now." I said clearly, hoping that would wake her. Another loud snore assaulted my ears. "Venetia. Wake up."

"Mmn…"

"Venetia."

"Z…z..z." I was losing my patience. I decided on the one thing that would startle her;

"VENETIA!"

I _never_ shouted. I'd never yelled in pain, never screamed a war cry, nothing. She sat bolt upright in bed, almost falling out in the process.

"What! What is it? What's wrong?" She blurted, eyes wide. I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring. "You have to get up."

"Mmnf. Was that all? You could have just woken me up gently instead of yelling." I was silent for a moment as I crossed to my trunk, pulling it open and yanking out a thick black jerkin with no sleeves. "Says you who dragged me out of bed by my feet. More than once." I muttered, concentrating on my clothing as Venetia stumbled out of the bed, lurching to the washstand. "Oh shut up, put on a happy face for once." She grumbled, washing the sleep from her eyes. Clasping my belt shut, I buckled my saber onto my back, pulling my hair out of it's bun, leaving it to dry. Venetia almost fell over on to her bed. "You're washed? How long have you been up!"

"A while. Look, Arthur told me there was a meeting today. After morning training, we have to meet at the Round Table. Tell everyone you see will you?"

"Including non Knights?" Venetia teased. I mock growled, making her laugh. "See you later."

"Later." She agreed as I shut the door behind me. Bair was coming out of her room across the corridor to me, and we walked together to the courtyards, silent. Bair and I had never needed to talk much, seeming to just be, no need for words. A clatter of shouts and the grinding of the gate made us look at each other before jogging to the main compound.

Battered and weary Roman Soldiers trudged through, many leaning on each other, the shields they held bearing the mark of Vercovicivm, the nearest wall fort.

"Arthur's holding a meeting today." I said calmly to Bair, watching the soldiers. My voice was a liar to the roiling of my insides. I had a good idea what the meeting was about. "Oh?"

"After morning training. We're to meet at the Round Table." Bair looked at the soldiers. "I'll make a bet with you in know what it's about…" She said grimly.

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Please Review! 


	14. Concussion and Conscription

Got the urge to write! So here is another chapter, please review! I know I put this one up really fast, sorry.. :grins:

Extra long chappie...

Chapter 13-Concussion and Conscription

The morning training seemed to pass more slowly than usual. Bair had told everyone in the yards what we'd seen, and now there was disquiet. Gawain was not concentrating, and for the fifth time that morning, I landed a soft blow on his padding. "Gawain," I growled, annoyed, "If you were this distracted in a battle, you'd be dead."

"Good thing we're not in battle then." He replied cheekily, swinging his sparring staff up in an arc and bringing it down on my own, making me grunt as I struggled against his strength. Dipping away, I smacked him soundly on the behind with my staff, spinning away to avoid any back blows. "And now you'd have no arse. How would the wenches cope?" I tested, trying to make him concentrate. He merely grinned, mock-lamenting to the air, "Oh, I suppose they'd cry for a year or two before noticing my exceptionally handsome face!" I couldn't help but smile, rolling my eyes. Lancelot and Bors sparred behind us, and I laughed out loud at the look of Gawain's face when the younger knight shouted; "Gawain, they would be all over me before _that_!" Gawain began to concentrate again, letting his staff whirl in a dance of heated argument with my own. Suddenly, a staff cracked down on both of ours, slamming them to the ground and making Gawain yelp with the jarring impact. I almost dropped the staff, but clung on, fingers stinging and aching against the hard wood.

"My turn." Tristan whispered, eyes fixed on me. I mentally shook. I was surely going to die. Gawain backed off, silent, his blue eyes wide. "Ready?" Tristan asked, hefting his staff back into his hands.

"Never." I whispered as he moved forwards into the attack, swinging the staff into the scarecrow feint. I ducked underneath, aiming a soft jab at the stomach of his padding, only to have it blocked. I grimaced as his staff rapped my fingers, having to push back with my own, my fingers still trapped. Sweat beaded on my forehead despite the cold weather, and I sought to find a fast end to this very unexpected battle. Twisting away, I engaged again, hooking my foot around Tristan's ankles, hoping to trip him. Suddenly, he surged forwards, using my own trick against me. Our staffs somehow managed to catch, yanking him down after me, the breath leaving my lungs in a mighty whoosh as I hit the ground, and then had him fall on me. My head cracked against the floor, colours exploding behind my eyes. The staffs still trapped between us lay hard against my stomach and ribs, with a wince, I thought woozily about the bruising. Tristan growled angrily, and I tensed. _Would he be mad enough to hit me? _I wondered mildly as he rolled away. I remained on my back, struggling to get the air back in my lungs. "Who won there?" I heard Galahad asking Bair, shock in his voice. "I-I don't know!" Bair muttered back. I knew Tristan had already gone by the time I propped myself up on my elbows, leaning a little against Lancelot, who'd been kind enough to help me sit up. Tristan would have taken a blow to the ribs too, and I groggily wondered. I looked at Lancelot. What I saw brought forth an uncharacteristic giggle- "Lancey-Pants! I didn't know you had a twin brother!"

* * *

As I slumped in my seat, I rubbed my eyes tiredly, pressing my fingers on the bridge of my nose, hoping to ease the raging headache inside my skull. After spending the rest of the morning with Brenna and Therin, I'd regained my senses. After several embarrassing attempts at walking on my own, I finally had to let Bors carry me to the infirmary, where Therin had immediately started mixing herbs and the like, while Brenna pressed a cold compress to the growing lump on the back of my head. I sighed morosely; I was tired, aching and grumpy. Never a good combination. A day that had started out fairly well had gone steeply downhill. Finding my way to the Round Table had taken me a few minutes longer than usual, as I'd had to stop and throw up twice. Brenna had warned me about the possibility of throwing up, she'd said it happened often with head injuries. 

"You alright, Little Fire?" I smiled, pleased to hear my brother's voice after so long. I leant back as he hugged my shoulders, letting my sore head loll on his collarbone. "I'll live." I sighed wearily as he let go and slid into his seat beside me. "I'll kill that bloody Tristan." He muttered, watching me. I glared at him, wishing everyone would stop worrying and blaming.

"No, you won't, Brother. I could have declined, but I didn't. It's all part of training." I said firmly. "How'd you hear about it anyway?" I asked, before Han could start fussing again.

"Finn. He was coming into the practice yards when he saw the fall." Han told me, eyes flicking about, no doubt looking for Tristan. I kept my face neutral as he mentioned Finn, hoping that the cocky man hadn't said anything more to my brother. "Han, you know what this meeting's about, don't you?" I asked, suddenly feeling ill again. Han shook his head, nodding as Galian took his seat on my other side. Ignoring Galian for the moment, I focused on my brother.

"Injured soldiers came in from Vercovicivm this morning. We've been training for a year, some of us with prior knowledge of fighting…you put it together." My brother's eyes widened. He swore softly, looking at me with worried eyes. "You-I mean, most of them are too young." Han stuttered. I ignored the 'you' part. Galian spoke up from behind me. "Oh-we…we'll be… oh."

"Knights!" Arthur's voice rang throughout the room, silencing anyone who'd been talking. Everyone settled back into seats, myself included, but my comfortable pose was no match for the tumbling of my stomach and pounding of my head. Arthur licked his lips nervously, looking around at us all. "Many of you know that this morning, injured Roman soldiers came though the gates of this fort. They came from the Wall Fort of Vercovicivm. Vercovicivm is under attack from Woad forces, and they have requested aid." A muffled intake of breath rang around, but no one was terribly surprised. Finn I noticed, leant forwards, listening intently, and Venetia looked almost gleeful. "So, we will be riding out to Vercovicivm tomorrow at dawn, fully prepared for battle. Are there any questions?" Lancelot stood, looking over at his friend. "What of the younger ones? Are they to fight too?" He nodded purposely at Galahad and Cadman, who both bristled against the slur. "We can spare no one." Arthur said firmly. I saw in his eyes that he and Lancelot had been arguing about this already, the stable meeting rang in my sore head. Lancelot sat again, looking mutinous. Hafgan stood, Tristan looking at him with slightly widened eyes. His friend never stood. "How many Woads? Do you know yet?" He asked, sitting to wait for Arthur's answer. I took the opportunity to look Tristan over for injury. I saw none. _I must have been a soft landing_…I thought, embarrassed. Arthur finished talking, and stood once again. "If that's all the questions, I give you the rest of the afternoon to do what you see fit and to prepare." He watched as others began to leave, then left himself, followed closely, I noted, by an angry Lancelot. Pulling myself up from my chair, I declined Han's and Galian's offer to see me to my room, walking there myself, still feeling a little ill. Venetia wasn't there, and I slumped onto my bed and fell immediately into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

A soft scrape of a chair woke me, and I knew it wasn't Venetia in the room. As much as I loved my big friend, I wasn't going to say she was the quietest woman in the world. Reaching under my pillow in the pretence of sleep, I wrapped my fingers around the handle of my dagger. I'd slept with it under my pillow since the bar incident, not trusting the Romans not to do anything about their slighted pride. Opening my eyes ever so slightly, I was surprised to see someone sat by my bed in the failing light. I released the dagger, removing my hand from under the pillow and opened my eyes fully, sitting up. "Who are you?" I asked, wincing as the voice that grated from my mouth rasped unpleasantly against my throat. Finn leant hurriedly into the light, a worried look on his face. "I came to see if you were alright… you didn't look so good in the meeting." His voice rang with concern and embarrassment. "I…I didn't want to wake you, you looked so peaceful." I smiled gently. The Womaniser was getting a soft heart. "Thanks, Finn." I murmured, truly meaning it. Swinging my legs off the bed, I was pleased to find my headache gone, though the slightly sick feeling in my stomach remained. "How long have you been here?" I asked, standing and moving to wash my face in the bowl. Soothed by the cold sting of water, I sighed, leaning my arms on the stand and bowing my head. "Not long. Venetia got a bit of a shock when she came in. She'd been at the blacksmiths getting her blades sorted. I'm surprised you didn't wake up-she was swearing like no ones business." I smiled softly, head still bowed. 

"I'm used to it." Disappearing behind a changing partition, I stripped off my shirt and breeches, pulling on a fresh pair and a thick green jerkin, flicking my hair out of the back. "You weren't this shy this morning." Finn said, a grin in his voice. I flung an old breastband over the partition in the general direction of his voice. He laughed, and I walked out, a soft smile dancing on my face. I couldn't help it-Finn always managed to make me smile. "Are you here out of concern or for a kiss, Sir Knight?" I teased, moving to make my bed. Finn stood and helped me, replying, "Oh, for a kiss, of course." I grinned, moving my attention back to the sheets.

"You know," Finn said thoughtfully once we'd finished. "You and Venetia live fairly messy, don't you?" I frowned, looking over the room. Alright, so there were clothes lying about and weapons strewn hither and thither, but it wasn't that bad, was it? "Show me your room sometime, Finn, and I'll pass judgement on messy, alright?" I grumbled, shoving him towards the door. "I'm hungry. Come on."

I'd only slept for two hours, and it was still some three hours before dinner would be served, but I dragged Finn to the bar anyway. Bors, Dagonet, Gawain, Bair, Venetia, Galahad, Cadman and Lancelot took up two tables, talking amongst themselves. Finn snaked an arm around my waist, but I didn't say anything, he was just being a good friend. Sitting down, I motioned Bors' woman over and asked her for some bread and any soup. Vanora put her hands on her hips, glaring at me while her baby wailed in the sling on her back. It had been somewhat of a shock to us all when Bors had settled with a woman literally days after we'd arrived at the fort. The child, named One (I was rather worried about this, I assumed all Bors' children would be mad. And if he had more, as the name suggested, the Fort could fall under the insanity.) was only three months old, born a little early, but alive nonetheless. "Go on Van, she hit her head badly today, she needs some of your food to get her right again!" Bors chuckled. I smiled in what I hoped was a meek and imploring way. Vanora's face softened as she tilted my head, checking for the bump. "Oh, you poor thing! You can have a cup of mulled wine too." She fussed, bustling away to get me something to eat and drink. "You've got a nice woman there, Bors. I'm not surprised you fell for her." I said gratefully, leaning my elbows tiredly against the table. Bors snorted. "You'd have fallen for her too. She smacked me with an ale jug .." Finn burst out laughing, hooting, "The mighty Bors! Felled by a woman!"

"How are you feeling?" Bair asked kindly, moving her ale cup out of Galahad's reach.

"Fine, just tired." I mumbled, feeling a little uncomfortable with the attention focused on me. Conversation began again, and I just listened, munching on chicken soup and crusty bread, sipping the mulled wine occasionally. Not surprisingly, the topic was the journey tomorrow.

"I can't believe Arthur is actually going through with this." Lancelot fumed, banging his goblet on the table. "We have to start fighting sometime." Dagonet reasoned, taking a sip from his own cup. Lancelot snorted, swirling his ale, annoyed. "But still! Some of the young-"

"Will you shut up about us younger ones!" Galahad snapped, standing. "We can fight as well as you! So leave it out!" He stormed away, leaving the rest of us looking at his retreating back. Cadman was silent for a moment, before he looked at Lancelot; carefully controlled temper reigned in his eyes. "Stop it." He said firmly, before getting up and following Galahad. Lancelot merely snorted and drank deeply. Bair looked reproachfully at him. "Lancelot, you know Galahad can fight, why do you pick on him? Cadman too? You're only making them more self conscious about their abilities."

"They're so young." He mumbled, before standing up and walking away too. Bors called after him, "Hey Lancey-Pants! You have to pay for that ale!" He got a rude hand gesture in reply. I flushed at the use of the nickname I'd inadvertently called Lancelot after my fall. Finn nudged me gently, murmuring, "Don't feel bad-you were senseless." Venetia clamped a hand on my shoulder, saying loudly, "What's going on between you and Finn here? He was in our room before!" I sat bolt upright, looking startled, "Nothing's going on!" Finn and I chorused, I flushed again, climbing over the bench. "I should go and apologise to Lancelot about this morning." I excused before making a run for it. I wondered why the ground never swallowed you when you wanted it to.

I found Lancelot on the battlements facing the road to the wall, brooding. I let him know I was there by clearing my throat and calling, "Lancelot?" No reply. I leant next to him, looking out over the cold land, thinking about the best way to apologise for the nickname I'd started.

"They're too young." He snapped suddenly, as though seeking justification. "They could be killed tomorrow. Their first fight! One of them could die!" I was slightly taken aback, so I didn't say anything, letting him carry on in a harsh tone. "I can't understand it! I mean, Arthur has never thought so hard about anything, I know so! I've been his friend for a year, and he's never made such a _stupid_ decision! He puts so much of his trust in his God, he never stops to think about whether there is actually something there! He kneels to something he can't see nor hear! He kneels to authority in Rome and thinks it's from his God!" Lancelot heaved in a breath, sounding defeated, "And I can't bring myself to hate him. As much as I detest Rome, I do not detest Arthur. He's the closest friend I've ever had, the kindest man I've ever known. I don't understand why he's making such a mistake now." I took a deep breath, uncomfortable. I'd never been especially close to Lancelot; we'd never had a deep conversation about anything. "Maybe he thinks we're all ready." I suggested, keeping my eyes forwards as Lancelot looked at me in disbelief. "We've worked hard for a year, all of us. Some of us knew how to fight beforehand. Others didn't. We all know how to defend ourselves. There will be no separation tomorrow, Lancelot. We just have to make sure we know where everyone is." I tried to make my voice consoling, but I shared Lancelot's view deep down. The boys were very young.

"How old are you, Dax?" Lancelot asked suddenly. Surprised, I glanced at him before replying, "Sixteen winters." He frowned.

"You're young too, Dax."

"What about you?"

"Seventeen winters."

"I'm not the only young one-"

"Galahad is only thirteen! Thirteen…" Lancelot murmured sadly, shaking his head. Silence reigned for a while, and I decided to apologise then.

"Look, Lancelot, sorry about today. I…I was a bit...err… woozy when I called you Lancey-Pants. Sorry about that." I stammered. Lancelot laughed suddenly, shaking his head. "It's alright. But you owe me." He joked. I patted his arm before leaving him to his thoughts. As I descended the steps, I spotted Tristan making his way towards me. My stomach churned nervously. He reached me as I reached the bottom of the stairs. His dark eyes bored in to mine.

"We need to talk."

* * *

Quick A/N; Many of you will probably be thinking, "Ergh! Dax is way too young, so are the others.." In Roman times, many girls were married and had children by thirteen, so she's an oldie for that time! Just in case anyone was a bit confoozed! 

Please review! Pleeeeease tell me you l;aughed at my feeble attempt at humour!


	15. Last Night And The Red Dress

Reviewers! I honestly don't know what I would do without you!

Sinned Darkness: I know! Ergh, I look at the text on the page and think. "Erg. Very, very much to read.." I get lost too… but I could lose a brick wall in front of me. 

Thank you very, very much for reviewing! Glad you liked the Lancey-Pants thing. I shall be trying my best to make the paragraphs shorter, or at least more spaced.

Op: Glad you're enjoying it! Here's more!

Ailis-70: I'm glad my story makes you think! I suppose I'm trying to show that Dax isn't as closed off as all that, so I'm revealing relationships that she has with her fellow Sarmatians. Don't get ahead of the story guessing! Lol, I can tell you're going to! I'm also glad you like Finn. For a womaniser he has a heart, but, the question is, is that heart leaning towards someone? "Brooding Boy" (I couldn't stop laughing at that, I suppose this chapter is dedicated to you for that! It's got a special place in the chapter…) is having a wobbler in this chapter..

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY; Thanks for reviewing, enjoy!

Chapter 14- Last Night and The Red Dress 

I looked at Tristan nervously. "About what?" I asked, wary. He was the only person I knew that could make me this nervous, and I didn't like it. Tristan glared, raising an eyebrow mockingly.

"What do you think? Come on." Grabbing my arm, I almost squeaked in fright as I was dragged forcibly off the steps and towards the stables.

"What in the name of The Goddess did I do!" I snarled, wrenching my arm out of his grasp, pulling him slightly off balance. The man looked at me darkly, turning and continuing towards the stables.

With a frustrated sigh, I followed, going against my better judgement. The stables were warm and dry, and, to my discomfort, deserted. The soft nicker of the horses, normally a sound that soothed me, instead grated in my ears as I watched Tristan, the scout who for the past year had frustrated, confused and intrigued me, pace in front of his horses stall. Anger welled up, what right did he have to drag me here?

"What do you want, Brooding Boy?" I snapped. His dark eyes snapped up, angry and for a moment, to my regret, hurt.

"Isn't it obvious?" He whispered. My heart leapt into my throat, the world grinding to a halt. "I want to apologise."

Frustration again loomed in my gut, overwhelming the speck of hope that had taken root. "Oh."

"I shouldn't have been so harsh on you today." I bristled slightly. Did he share Lancelot's view? Did he think that I was too young, or, even worse, _because I_ _was a girl_, that I wouldn't be adequate to fight?

"You weren't harsh on me." I said, shrugging, wandering over to Galahad's mare's stall, holding a hand out over the door for the kind horse to nudge at.

"Bull happens in training. S'part of life." Tristan leant against the door beside me.

"Sorry."

I groaned in frustration, closing my eyes. "Stop apologising, otherwise I won't apologise to you when I best you next time." I joked, turning to smile at him a little. For a moment, he looked as though he wanted to say something, but closed his mouth and turned away again after flushing slightly. Sadly, I patted his arm and left the stables, abandoning hope of ever getting through to the quiet man.

"Dax! There you are!" Finn gasped, running over, slightly pink in the face. I grinned; he looked gorgeous even when he was sweaty and warm.

"Something up?" I asked mildly, trying to keep the thoughts of the bathhouse out of my head.

"Dock is looking for you. He's ranting that even he's packed to go and you're not even started." My body froze. Dock? In the middle of a battlefield? I wouldn't allow it. Finn peered into my eyes. "Err, Dax? Are you alright?"

"Dock can't go." Finn frowned, straightening and hurrying after me as I stormed towards the main buildings where everyone was barracked.

"Why?" He asked, lengthening his stride to an easy gait.

"He's too young! And a healer! He could never defend himself!" I snapped, slamming open a door. The hall of the Round Table's door loomed at the end of the passage. Finn read my mind, and grabbed me around the waist, pulling me backwards, "Arthur's in a meeting!" He cried, yanking as I struggled. "_Gawain_! Thank the Gods! Help!" He yelped as the blonde knight came out of his room. He stood to one side, and I snarled angrily as I was shoved inside, Gawain slamming the door after me and bolting it. I stood panting, my head pounding and ribs aching with the pressure Finn had exerted on my bruises. The two knights stood on either side of the door, looking for all the world like menacing guards. I sank onto Gawain's bed, holding my head. It hurt so badly, I wanted to cry. I wouldn't and couldn't. Not in front of Gawain and Finn; but the feeling was there. For that, I was annoyed at myself.

"Let me out." I managed, grating out the words in a cold tone.

"You don't understand. Dock is too young to go out into the middle of a battlefield where he could get hurt."

"He won't be in the battlefield, Dax." Gawain said gently, remaining by the door while Finn dipped a clean cloth in water, holding it out to me. I pressed it eagerly against my throbbing skull, sighing in satisfaction. "That's not the point.." I muttered, "The point is, what if it goes ill, and they get to wherever he is!"

Without looking up, I knew that Finn and Gawain were exchanging eye rolling glances. I was being ridiculous, I knew.

"Someone check Lancelot hasn't died. Dax is becoming his spirit." Finn joked, opening the door. "Come on, you know you're being silly. I'll help you pack." Weary now, I stood, following Finn meekly and saying goodnight to Gawain.

"Sleep well, Little Fire." He called after me. I smiled softly in the darkness of the night that had descended. Was everyone using Han's nickname for me now?

"He'll be alright, Dax." Finn murmured, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as we walked.

"I know."

"Then why are you so bothered?" I sighed, leaning on him for comfort as we entered the halls. "I don't know." I whispered softly, feeling the burn that heralded tears in my eyes. I raised a hand to my face, annoyed, but Finn's hand got there first. "Hey, what's this?" He murmured, green eyes concerned. I couldn't help it. Tears welled more strongly, and Finn pulled me into a warm hug, letting me bury my head in his warm shoulder.

"It's not fair." I muttered like a sullen child a while later. Finn chuckled, and I listened to the sound rumbling through him, oddly pleased.

"I can't hear you, you're still taking refuge in me." He joked. I raised my head, wiping fiercely at my cheeks. "It's not fair." I repeated as we began to walk again, hand in hand now. "Why do we have to do this?"

"Because we'd be hunted down if we didn't." Finn said, his warm smile and wave to Bair, who was crossing the compound with Galahad and Cadman in tow, contradicting the flat tone of his voice. I sighed, realising that we'd come to my shared room. I could hear Venetia talking inside, and a moment later, Dock's voice replying. "You still want me to help?" Finn asked, releasing my hand.

I shook my head, thinking about the small room with me, Venetia, Dock and Finn inside. "My 'messy' room wouldn't hold everyone." I grumped sourly, giving Finn a look. He laughed, and I was once again stuck by how pleased it made me feel.

"Alright, Dax. I'll see you in the bar later?"

"Maybe," I replied, "Depends whether Dock hasn't killed me for not packing right.."

"Alright, maybe later then." Finn grinned, kissing me chastely on the mouth, then walking away whistling. Watching him leave, I rolled my eyes and entered the chaos that was my shared living space.

"She won't want all that!" Venetia crowed in exasperation as Dock pulled out a long, deep red dress. I smiled softly. It had been a present from Arthur for my sixteenth birthing day. "She might! You never know, after we've won there might be a feast!" Dock yelled back, folding it neatly. I watched in amusement from the door; neither had noticed my entry. Venetia looked flabbergasted.

"A feast! You think they'll throw a feast!" Dock turned a lovely Roman red colour.

"They might!"

"They won't!"

"Will!"

"Won't!"

"Will!"

"WON'T!"

"Children, children," I drawled, ambling into the room, "I think it would be best if I packed my own things, don't you?" Venetia and Dock looked like cornered rabbits, surprised to see me standing in the room.

"When did you get back?" Venetia asked grumpily after a moment, shoving a tunic into her pack. Smiling at Dock, I took the red dress and put it carefully back into the trunk at the foot of my cot. "I won't need it Dock, sorry." Turning to Venetia, I replied, "Just in time to watch you get into an oh-so-mature fight with Dock here." She glared for a moment, before winking.

"Aye well, we've never seen eye to eye? Have we, boy?"

"No," Dock replied, smiling. "Might have something to do with your height!" Venetia scowled playfully and tossed a rag.

A long hour later, I'd finally packed, after having to take half the things Dock and Venetia had packed out again, then explaining why I didn't need three shifts, two skirts (never worn) and an array of shirts, and instead packing one shirt, one pair of breeches and some underclothes, a jerkin and a spare set of armour clasps. The bundle was small, thankfully, and though Venetia and Dock protested that it wouldn't' be enough, that we didn't know for how long we'd be there, I reminded then that it wasn't likely I'd be bothered about changing clothes in the middle of the battle.

"We going down to the bar?" Venetia asked once the room was relatively cleared. Dock rummaged in my trunk for a moment.

"Wear this." I nodded to Venetia and turned to Dock looking at what he was holding.

"Wear wha-no." I said immediately. Dock looked crestfallen.

"Please? You never wear stuff like this. Venetia wear skirts now and then!" Venetia looked alarmed as I glared at her. "Don't get me into this, boy!" The red dress looked soft and inviting in the torchlight, and I sighed. Dock widened his eyes and looked imploring. I groaned, I hated that look. I'd do anything for him when he did that face."

"Stop it!"

"Pleeeease!"

"Dock...no, look-."

"Venetia, tell her! Go on Dax, please!"

Venetia chuckled and left, cheerfully saying she'd see me at the bar.

I covered my face with my hands, not wanting to look at Dock.

"You never wear things like this."

"There's a reason for that, Dock." I muttered, peeking between my fingers at the boy I thought of as my little brother. Or Bother, as it seemed now. He gave me a mournful look that melted my heart.

"Alright…Alright, fine, just… go to the bar. I'll meet you there."

Dock yelled happily, throwing himself on me with a tight hug. I patted his head grudgingly. "Alright, don't push your luck. Go on, off with you."

I looked at the dress with trepidation, before slipping out of my clothes and into the fabric. It was wonderful. I hadn't worn a dress since I'd left home almost two years ago. The fabric clung to my skin to the waist and flared out into a lush, long skirt at the bottom. Leather straps held the billowing sleeves to my elbows, and flared out after that, the neckline dipping low enough to show some skin, but not low enough to make me feel like a whore. I untied my hair, letting it run down my back to the middle, curled worse that it had ever been. I washed my face, thinking for the first time gratefully about the Roman training, I was fairly slim, though a little too muscular for my liking. "Not much choice about that, though." I muttered to myself, straightening and drying my skin. For the first time, I wished we had a looking glass in our room.

A soft knock at the door made me jump a little, and I hurried to answer it, poking my head around the wood instead of standing at the door, unsure of who was calling.

Dagonet smiled gently, nodding his head in greeting. "Is Venetia at the bar? Or is she still here?" He asked politely, his warm eyes kind. I liked Dagonet; he was always there to offer a kind word or a simple hug when you felt down. "She's at the bar." I said meekly, trying to hide the damnable skirt that swished into view. Dag's eyes widened. "You're going to the bar?" He asked, not saying anything for the moment.

"Y-yes." I stammered, suddenly very nervous. I knew by the teasing grin that suddenly adorned his kind face.

"Care to walk with me, Lady Dax?" I scowled as he laughed.

"Very funny. Aye, I'll walk with you." I muttered, walking out and closing the door. I turned my key before slipping it into the belt purse at my side. "You look lovely." Dagonet reassured, kindly taking my arm. I blushed at the compliment. It seemed that as soon as I wore skirts, I turned back into a frivolous maiden. "Thank you. I wasn't sure about wearing it… but Dock-,"

"He did the face, didn't he?"

"Aye." Dagonet laughed, patting my arm.

"I'm used to it you see, it's nothing that really affects me now." I grinned, "Lucky you."

The rowdy shouts of the bar could be heard, and I shivered a little in anticipation and terror. What would the others think? "Don't worry." Dag reassured. The knights were all gathered at four tables; everyone was there, even Arthur, which I was surprised at; his God forbade him to drink.

"HO! Dag!" Lancelot called, eyes on me, "Got yourself a pretty woman there-." He was cut off as Finn stood up, eyes wide in recognition.

"Dax?"

Hhehe, I'll leave it there! Please review and tell me what you think! I know the pace is a little slow at the moment, I'll try to pick it up, I promise!


	16. We Walk Alone In Fear

I'll be the first to say that this is a mushy chapter. I don't' know why. S'just the way it turned out!

Reviewers;

Ailis-70; What on earth is a tookus! Lol! I was smiling for ages after that… glad you liked the brooding boy angle. Dock is a schemer! You'll see! Ahh.. the possibilities or reactions…

Op; Good luck with the exam, here you go!

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Et Voila!

Sorry it's so short by the way... busy at home..

* * *

Chapter 15-We Walk Alone In Fear

"Dax! It _is_ you!" Finn gasped. The knights went quiet, Bair, Arlana, Therin and Venetia all wearing huge smiles. I attempted to hide behind Dagonet. Chuckling, Dag grabbed my elbow and hauled me out in front of him, pushing me towards the tables. "Don't be so silly." He chided. Lancelot seemed lost for words, his mouth open and gawping. Finn had a shocked and oddly pleased sort of expression on his handsome features. Arthur strode forwards, beaming.

"You finally wore it!" He cried, smiling. Taking my shoulders in his hands, he looked the dress over. "I thought you'd never wear a dress again." He admitted ruefully, letting me finally slide from his grasp and into a seat, cheeks burning. Dock, who'd been collecting ale, shot me a grin, and then a mischievous look at Finn. My mouth dropped. He knew. Somehow, Dock now knew. Venetia and Therin whistled at me, then burst into laughter. At my flushed reaction, Arlana hushed them, sniping, "They're just jealous." That brought reactions of "We are not! We're just happy for her!"

I groaned, banging my head on the table.

"It's a dress! Not...not the nude!" I whined in exasperation. Dock was going to get something wet and slimy in his bedroll for this. The girls laughed, grinning. I looked about. Galahad, Cadman, Adair, Lancelot, Finn, Arthur, Gawain, Bors, Therin, Han, Jols, Galian, Mack, Dock, Hafgan, and Tristan- I shied away at his burning glance-Arlana and Venetia. Rowena, Melva and Brenna were missing.

"Where are Rowena, Melva and Brenna?" I asked Therin. Her face fell, as did the noise from the others. "Baby Alessandro is sick. Melva is staying with Rowena while Brenna tries to help." Arthur said in a somewhat hollow voice. He'd taken to Rowena and her baby boy, always helping and playing with the child. He would make a great father someday. I felt a wave of pity for Rowena. While I didn't like babies myself, Alessandro made me smile with his gurgles and giggles. I didn't really mind him. He was a happy child, loved by all of us. "What's wrong with him?" I asked, as conversation began to build again. Arthur motioned for me to walk with him, and I did so, leaving the bar and our rowdy friends behind. The night air was cold on my skin, the winter bite paling my skin. Arthur must have noticed my shiver, for before I could protest, his heavy cloak was around my shoulders.

"No." He said firmly as I opened my mouth to protest. "I won't have you getting ill before we are to ride out." I shut my mouth, chastened.

"What's wrong with Alessandro?" I questioned as our walk took us up to the wall top. Arthur leant against the solid wall, looking out over the road to our battlefield.

"We don't know. He's burning with fever, then cold. He cries a lot. Last night he was up four or five times. Rowena couldn't sleep, she was so frightened…" He trailed off a little, sneaking a glance at me, looking worried. I pieced this together in my head. They were bed mates. I thought back to when I'd first met Rowena. She'd mentioned a husband. My emotions must have shown on my face.

"Trowa is dead." Arthur said calmly. I almost fell over. He used Rowena's husbands name for one, and the second bit of news was shocking. She hadn't said anything.

"But when?" I asked, perplexed. "Recently? She never-"

"He was dead when she left her tribe."

"Then…then why didn't' she tell anyone that?" I challenged, confusion roiling in me. Arthur sighed, running his hands through his hair.

"She was grieving. She also thought that if anyone knew that her husband was dead, that she was somehow dishonoured." He muttered in halting tones. "I don't understand why." He ground sharply, guessing my next question, "That's what she told me. I didn't question her, Dax. I didn't want to make her hurt." I nodded, leaving the questions alone. If Rowena wanted to tell any of us, she could choose to do so; I would not be a gossip. "You wont..?"

"Never. And I'm surprised you thought that of me." I murmured. Arthur nodded, looking apologetic. "I'm going back down to the bar." I said finally, straightening from my leaning position on the wall. "And then I'm going to check on Rowena and the boy. I'll see you at dawn, Arthur."

Walking away, I almost missed the whispered, "Thank you."

"For what?" I asked, not turning around. I heard Arthur draw breath. "For listening." I smirked, but not unkindly.

"Sometimes, Arthur, you need someone else but a faith to hold you up." I said quietly. Descending the wall steps for the second time that day, I thought I heard a quiet chuckle from our leader, but didn't' turn back.

* * *

The bar was noisy, and to my consternation, full of Romans. I dodged a couple of groping hands before throwing myself into the space next to my brother. Han smiled warmly. "You look lovely, Daxera." He grinned, hugging me around the shoulders. I smiled softly, wishing I wasn't there as the beginnings of another headache began to prickle my brain. "You nervous about tomorrow?" Bors asked, taking a long draught from his cup. "Not really…" I answered, feeling a little unsure.

Bors chuckled. "I've killed before, so I'm not bothered." He stated proudly, downing the rest of his drink. Han shifted in his seat, nodding to the pretty barmaid, adding, "Dax has killed before, too."

Bors accidentally smacked himself on the chin with his newly filled cup. "What?"

"Han…" I warned. I didn't really want it spread about, I wasn't sure why. Han shrugged and stood, ambling over to Lancelot who was busy charming several of the bar wenches at once. Bors looked at me. I shrugged, standing. "Say thanks to Vanora for me. That soup and wine really helped." I said, before making an exit. A feeling I was being watched made me stood and look around. Tristan leant against a wooden pillar, slicing an apple and glaring at me, something like anger burning in his eyes. Anger and something else that I didn't recognise. He smirked languidly, flicking his knife in a half salute from his head. I almost ran out.

Leaning against the cool wall on the outside of the bar, I remembered the glare. What had I done now? I drew my cloak more tightly around me. Realisation struck me still. The cloak. Arthur's. Irritation burned in my soul. He was annoyed because I was wearing another man's cloak. "Stupid man." I huffed, stalking away.

* * *

Rowena stood over her son, pale and tear streaked. Brenna was mixing a set of herbs with a mortar and pestle. Melva sat in the corner, watching with nervous eyes. I stood in the doorway, feeling incredibly out of place, like I shouldn't have gone. I decided to say what I could and leave. "Rowena." I whispered softly. She spun around, looking distraught. Melva almost leapt out of the chair, but sank back down when Rowena smiled gently and motioned me in. I crept over to the bed, unsure of whether Baby Alessandro was awake. Rowena turned back to her son. He was so pale and small. I took a sharp breath. Alessandro's normally bright blue eyes were dim, half lidded, breathing laboured. Occasionally, he would whimper, straining his tiny hands at his sides. It broke my heart. "R-Rowena…I…" I stammered, whispering. She turned to me, tears glittering in her beautiful eyes, streaming down her porcelain skin. "It _hurts_." She murmured, voice breaking slightly. "I _can't_ lose my son."

"You won't." I whispered fiercely, pulling her into a one armed hug. "You won't." She nodded, unsure.

"Dax?"

Finn stood at the doorway, waiting for me. "Gods bless, Rowena." I said, hugging her, "Alessandro will pull through, if he's as strong as you." She smiled through her tears. Nodding to Melva and Brenna, I left, pulling Finn away from the door.

"What?" I asked, aware immediately after I'd said it that it was harsh. "Sorry."

"It's alright. I-I wanted to tell you something." Finn stammered. I rose an eyebrow, wondering.

"Y-Y-You l-look beautiful. The dress... I-..." Whatever I'd been expecting, it wasn't that. This was Finn, the Womaniser. He wasn't supposed to be nervous. I smiled gently, wrapping my arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. "Thank you."

"There's something else."

"Hmm..?"

"I'm frightened." I drew back, concerned. Finn looked embarrassed, shuffling his feet and not meeting my eyes. Gently, I tilted his chin so I could see his eyes. "What of?"

"I don't want to die tomorrow." Pity swamped me.

"Don't you _dare_ think like that! You're _n_ot going to die! I won't let you!" I cried, backing away a little. Finn stepped towards me, unsure. He wouldn't sleep tonight, I knew.

"Come on." I held out a hand. He took it, looking confused. The barracks where close, and it didn't take long to reach my shared room. Finn stopped, looking at me.

"I don't intend _that_." I said, catching a look on his face. "Just… I think you'll be able to sleep here." Opening the door, we walked into the semi-gloom. "What about Venetia?" Finn asked, no longer looking unsure as he stripped off his jerkin and shirt, leaving his breeches on. I slid behind the screen, shimmying out of the dress and slipping into an oversized shirt. "If the look Dag was shooting at her tonight was anything to go by, she won't be back tonight." I reassured. Coming out of the other side, I grinned as I saw Finn in my bed, holding the covers out for me. We lay there for a long time, simply wrapped in each other, breathing slowing as sleep beckoned. Finn rested his chin on the top of my head, and I buried my face in his collarbone, breathing in his warm, clean scent. "I won't let anything happen to you." I vowed softly, kissing his collarbone gently. "And I you." He murmured, kissing the top of my head. Sleep enveloped us, warm and safe in each others arms, unaware that eyes had watched us into the room, and watched my door into the early hours.

* * *

Please review. I know it's short... sorry... 


	17. Loss

_**Reviewers; **_

**June Birdie**: Hi! Thanks for reviewing, I'm pleased you like my story! I know, poor Baby Alessandro! Not much of him in this chapter, sorry!

**Ailis-70**: Aah! Rear End, I get it now! I wanted Finn to lose some ground! He's so used to the wenches in the bar, I think Dax is throwing him off a little. ;p

Hee… baaaad Tristan… and Dock! I read through again and I could see why you thought that, but oh the boy is crafty!

**Op**: 'lo! Hope your exam went alright, here's the next update! I'm really happy I make your day when I've updated! happy dance!

**LANCELOTTRISTANBABY**: Thanks, here you go!

**WARNING**

Angst on the way people, battle scenes and character death people, so read with an open mind. Language too…sorry…

Author's Note; I live close to Hadrian's Wall, (Near Vercovicivm!) and dawn in winter is around 8.30am, if anyone was interested! I walk to school in the dark..grumps

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Chapter 16-Loss.

The beginning of dawn woke me in a foul temper. At first, I stiffened, wondering why there was a body at my back, and then relaxed as I remembered the night's occurrences. Finn slept quietly, a blessing, considering I'd heard Bors snoring, and wondered how Vanora ever slept at all…

Grumpily, I pushed Finn's arms off me and slid out of the bed, stumbling over to the door and yanking it open, bending over to grab the fresh pitcher of water the servants in the fort had left behind. Looking about, I noted the silence in the rest of the hall; no one else was up and awake yet. I slammed the door.

Finn continued to sleep, despite the noise I made, and once I was dressed in loose breeches, black and made for combat and a brown leather jerkin with a fitted white wool tunic underneath, I strapped on various bits of armour; kidney belt and my vicious bladed bracers which I rolled up my sleeves to attach, and slender leather greaves under the breeches legs. My heavy, hobnailed boots were yanked forcefully onto my feet and laced after I'd tucked the breeches into them. Braiding my hair somewhat violently, I could feel my morning temper wearing off, and I looked to Finn. Wrapping a thin but long scarf around my neck, I arranged it accordingly, watching. He slept on. Rolling my eyes, I sauntered over and poked him gently in the ribs.

"Oy, sleeping beauty, wake up." I said softly, not wanting to scare him with my armoured countenance. Finn threw an arm over his eyes. "G'way. S'noo time t' gee' up."

"Actually, Finn, you have about…oh…two minutes before we ride." I lied, watching his face. His eyes shot open and he sat up, and I had to throw myself onto my arse to avoid being head-butted.

"_What!_?"

I couldn't help but snigger a little, trying to hide my grin behind a fingerless gloved hand. Finn glared, throwing my own pillow at me. It hit me in the face, and I lay back on the cold floor, laughing freely now. After my hysterics had ended, I watched Finn pulling his clothes back on, still grinning. "I have to go back to my room, all my things are in there."

"I know." I replied, standing and making the bed. "I'll probably see you in the courtyard."

"You should do that more often." I looked up from smoothing my pillow over.

"Do what? Make my bed?"

"Laugh." With a heart-stopping smile, he left, and I wondered, ruefully, whether I'd fallen for his charms too.

"Arlana'll have my head." I muttered, going back to the task at hand.

We passed the infirmary, and I noted that neither Rowena nor Melva had moved; they would not be coming with us. I closed the door, not disturbing them, jogging slightly to catch up to Venetia, silently asking Arthur's God to save to boy.

* * *

Venetia didn't say much on the way down to the courtyard, wearing a rather soft smile on her face. She'd returned as I was strapping my sword to my back and sliding daggers through my kidney belt. "You look terrifying." Was the sentence that alerted me to her return. I twitched my nose in the cold winter morning air as we made our way to the stables. Saddling the horses was a silent affair, Galahad's stall was opposite to my own, and his pale face was testimony to his feelings. Cinching the girth straps, I watched him doing the same thing. Cadman passed his stall, dipping inside for a moment to clasp Galahad's forearm in what I supposed was man-signal for 'don't be scared.' Sighing, I swung up into the saddle, deciding to take Rend out into the winter air and leave him at the ties. I squirmed. Although Rend was a good horse, a fine destrier, he wasn't Sarmatian, and he wasn't Testy. His saddle was as broad as his back, and I had a nasty feeling I'd be walking bow-legged into battle. Rend snorted at me, and started out. Arlana yelled a goodbye, running towards me. Yanking the reigns to get through to the hulking best I wanted to stop, I growled in irritation. Rend was in a bad mood.

"Come back."

I frowned, motioning with my hand in the direction of the gate. "Arlana, I'm sort of going on a mission?"

"I mean come back alive." I leant down until I was almost level with her. I winked, hugging her with one arm while whispering, "Don't worry, I'll come back to irritate you." She pulled away, smiling. I was disconcerted to see tears in her eyes. Gawain called to his sister from the doorway, and she was gone, flying into her brother's arms. Gawain closed his eyes, swinging her around. I watched them sadly. I felt a hand on my knee. Glancing down, I smiled sadly at Han. "She can't come with us. I know where you are. They have a reason."

"I know." Was my quiet retort as I flicked the reigns, lilting out into the cold sunlight. A sunlight, I was scared to note, that promised death.

The ride to Vercovicivm was somewhat uneventful, chatter and laughter rang from the older Knights. The younger ones, including myself, were a little quieter. It was not nervousness that rendered me silent. It was Tristan. In the courtyard shortly before we were due to leave, he found me in between Finn's gelding and my own destrier.

"_I know he stayed with you." He snapped, surprising me. I spun around, meeting his eyes with a frown. _

"_What?"_

"_Finn. I know he stayed in your room." I felt anger swirling up inside me. This boy was really starting to make me pissy. "Back. Off." I snarled, turning around, snapping over my shoulder, "It's none of your business what I do." Next moment, I was seized and shoved against the wall, Tristan's arms planted firmly on either side of my head. I glared, knowing that I could fight back should I get too scared. I was frightened; disgusted with myself, I met his eyes, hoping the disgust was showing, though it might not have been aimed at my captor. He said nothing, standing close. His eyes spoke of intense, smouldering anger. I almost shivered as he leant in, smelling dark wood and musk, he was too close, but I remained still, unsure of what to do. "Arthur's cloak, Finn's comfort. What next? Gawain's sympathies? Careful, Dax, people might think you're something other than a Knight…"_ _He whispered, mouth brushing the skin of my cheek next to my ear._ _I snarled, pushing him away_. _"You bastard." I hissed, clenching my jaw. Tristan smirked, turning and simply walking off, leaving me with an internal battle not to throw a dagger at his back. _

"Dax? Daxera!" I started, looking at my Commander with a stony face. "Sorry, Artorius. What?" Arthur looked a little hurt; I'd never used his full name since the night we'd first talked, a year ago to this day. The anger seething through me spoke of no apologies, but the calmer, more rational voice in the back of my head told me to find him and apologise later. Arthur frowned a little, the hurt still in his green and brown flecked eyes as he told me to ride ahead with Bair and warn the Centurion of our impending arrival.

I nodded, riding to Bair. The pair of us broke into a gallop and headed for the visible fort, from which, to Bair's groan of dismay, had smoke rising ominously from it's north gate. Bair and I slowed to a swift trot on the roads, keeping an eye out for any Woads that may have slipped through the fort.

"How's Galahad?" I asked suddenly, glancing at her. Bair straightened in the saddle, sighing.

"I'm not sure. I don't want to make him seem like baby by hugging him and telling him it's all going to be alright but-…"

"You don't want to let him suffer alone?" I out in after she trailed off. She nodded, eyes saddened. We rode in silence, reaching the huge, wide open gates of the fort. Trotting through, Bair yelled out commandingly, "Get me Centurion Amicus, now!" The Centurion dashed around the corner in a manner entirely unfitting to his station and hailed us, arms wide and face relieved. "Aah! You have come! It is a wonder sent from the Lord Himself!" He cried, stepping forwards as if to embrace me as I slid from my horse, wincing. I stepped back hurriedly, waving him off under the pretence of stiff muscles. He stepped towards Bair, whose frosty look made his arms fall limply at his sides. "We bear the message that Arthur Castus and his knights draw close, a healer with them. We have instruction to tell you that we are under your command until Arthur gets here." Bair said woodenly, keeping a firm hold on her gelding's reigns as he whickered and pulled about, frightened by the sudden wailing scream that filled the air around us. I looked up to the wall to see a Soldier screaming as the arrow imbedded in his eye drained his life, falling backwards to land with a sickening crunch on the ground. More Roman soldiers ran past and up the wall, ignoring the still twitching and moaning man. I felt sick, the bile rising in my throat. Pushing the feeling into a part of me that I could lock away, I straightened, no longer hampered by riding legs. The Centurion nodded and asked whether we could shoot. A frightening smile came over Bair's features, and she grabbed her huge longbow and quiver, swinging them onto her back. I followed her and tied Rend to the same post as her horse. "You alright?" She asked quietly. I nodded, grabbing my own, considerably smaller bow and quiver, checking my sabre was strapped safely to me. "Never better." I said grimly, feeling lost. "Come on," Bair chuckled, looking dangerous, "Lets go kill."

* * *

The Wall top was littered with the dead and dying, flurries of Woad archers picking of anything that moved. Bair and I found ourselves a spot, pushing off the dead bodies in our way. The glassy eyes that stared up into the grey skies brought out a feral side to me I wish I hadn't known. Ducking behind the indents, we fired randomly, killing at will. Soon, it became mechanical, though the sick joy I had experienced when I was nine kept welling up over me, threatening to make me burst into manic laughter. I was scaring myself with my own brutality. Bair was considerably better at archery than I, and her grim, fixed expression was somewhat identical to my own. I shot, watching my arrow thud into another chest, killing another man.

"Bair! Dax!" We both turned, relieved as Arthur, Lancelot at his side, everyone else behind them cantered into the yards. We ran down the stairs, ducking arrows as we stood. I hissed as an arrow glanced my face, slicing a cheek. "Dax!" Bair yelped, grabbing my hand and yanking me down into the courtyard. "You alright?"

"Fine." I muttered, wiping mulishly at the sting with my sore fingers. Arthur and my brother looked to me, and I nodded, motioning I was fine. A sudden crash echoed menacingly.

"They're breaking the gate!" Screamed a bleeding soldier, "They're-" He broke off with a scream, felled by an arrow. Dock looked panicky, and I grabbed his knee. "If they break through, you ride!" I snarled, "You ride, and don't stop till you get back." He nodded, terrified. "Dock, get to the infirmary! Bair, Dax, mount up, when the gate breaks, we ride at them!" Arthur shouted over the crashing. Lancelot looked at him in disbelief. "Are you _mad!_?" He screamed at our Commander. Arthur looked at him stonily, before saying something none of us could hear. Lancelot flushed and swung his horse away, looking murderous. I mounted up, drawing my sabre. Adair was beside me, looking grim. "Well, if we die, at least it'll be the end of service." He joked in a dead voice. I smirked, turning my eyes back. Dock watched us from the infirmary door, some man's blood already on his face. The gate broke with an almighty crash, and Arthur screamed at the top of his lungs, Bors bellowed "RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUS!" And all hell broke loose.

Most of us were screaming. I stayed quiet, as did Adair and Galian on my other side, the lot of us galloped for the gate; our goal, to get out of the other side in one piece.

The Woads were blue, the smell from their dye permeating, and I hit with all the fury I could muster. Stabbing, slicing and backhanding, I made my way out into the bloody madness beyond the safety of the fort.

A man grabbed my leg, seeking to yank me from the saddle, I walloped him across the face with my arm, slicing in a backwards motion, his screams would remain in my memory as he staggered away, eyes gouged by the spikes that ran on my bracers. A woman screamed at me, obviously his lover by the pain in her voice, charging; a swift plunge of the sabre and the scream died off.

Bors was laughing madly, off his horse, killing all in his reach. I allowed a roar of sheer _joy_ to escape me; no longer was I silent! I would not be beaten by these wraiths! I lost sight of everyone on horseback as I dismounted, smacking my horse in the direction of the gate, throwing myself into a man who has about to sneak up on Adair, who fought with cold accuracy before me. Cut, parry, block, swing, cut, parry, block, swing, I moved as quick as I could, feeling the adrenaline burn my muscles and fuel my battle rage. Flicking sweat from my eyes, I listened with a grim smile on my mouth; I wasn't the only one taken by the rage. Venetia was screaming in anger somewhere, as was Galian. Bors continued to laugh, sending a man flying into the air with a swing of his arm. Through the madness, I saw a woman behind Finn, a dagger in her hands. Finn was oblivious, fighting a huge man with his ax. "Finn!" I heard someone scream, and the next moment, a dagger felled the woman, striking her in the left side, hitting her heart through the ribs.

Tristan's dagger. I smiled softly; maybe the scout wasn't such a bastard.

All the breath was knocked from me as a man hit me from behind, sending me crashing to the ground, flattened under him. Thankfully, I landed on a body, making my landing softer, but the spray of blood that slashed across my eyes blinded me, and I could do naught but stab backwards frantically with one hand while wiping my face with the other. The man screamed, plunging his sword down. It hit my kidney belt, glancing off the hard leather. I rolled, pushing up as hard as I could, cursing at my assailant. "Who ate all the shitting pies!" I snarled, slicing across his fat throat.

"Dax! Get to Bair!" Galahad screamed from behind me, gutting his opponent. He was doing fine. Momentarily, pride washed through me, before his words sunk in-_Bair_. I swung about, smashing my fist into a woman's yelling, hate-filled face before I could look for Bair, gutting her cleanly. Her dagger sank into my thigh as she went down, a last sting before her eyes glazed. I cried out, dizziness and nausea waving through me as it twisted. Smacking her hand away, I dropped to one knee and wrenched it out, dropping it to tear a section from the dead woman's scant shirt and tying it tightly around the wound.

Looking around, I saw the reason for Galahad's concern. Bair was being hounded by three, hulking men. '_Daggers._' I thought desperately, unsheathing them and throwing them with all my strength. One hit a man in the back of his knee, toppling him as he cried out with shock; a moment later, Bair's sword detached his head from his body. The other, my only other weapon besides my sabre, hit another in the back of the neck, and I crowed at my luck. Bair screamed and attacked the last man in triumph, slitting his stomach. He fell to his knees, holding his guts in, and ended up as headless as his friend. The battle was thinning. The Roman soldiers, by some miracle, begun to fight again with vigour, fighting with us. At least two hundred Woads against seventeen Sarmatian Knights and perhaps eighty Roman Soldiers, and we had won. I shook my head, weary. It was surely the work of some higher Deity.

The remaining Woads seemed to just take off, vanishing back into the trees some meters back, their archers ceasing fire as suddenly as a thunderclap. I stood once again, suddenly realising how very tired I was. I watched Lancelot as he threw one of his blades into the face of a yelling Woad, and then I turned and saw Gawain lift a man, dropping him and plunging a dagger in his belly with a horrible yell. Arthur's horn rang out over the battlefield, and I trudged towards it. Suddenly, a hand grasped my ankle, pulling me down. I crashed to my knees once again, hitting the mud with a thump, thanking the British weather for it's wet season. "E-end i-i-it….p-p-p-p-ll…_please_! " Choked a voice. Looking down at my attacker, my insides went cold. Cadman lay in the dirt, blood running from his mouth and nose, an ax embedded deep in his chest on the right side. "ARTHUR!" I screamed, looking up desperately. "HAN! DOCK! SOMEONE! PLEASE!" Bors came running, as did Dagonet and Bair. Bair fell to her knees on the boy's other side, tears already streaming down her face. "He's not going to live…" Bors said softly. I snarled at him, and angry, pained sound that startled even me. Cadman whined softly, grabbing my hand. Lancelot staggered over, grief in his eyes. He slumped a few feet away, the newly arrived Finn's hand on his shoulder. Arthur ran, skidding to us. "No.." Cadman whispered, "Where-e-s, G-g.." More blood frothed up from his mouth, overflowing onto his chin, staining it red. "Galahad!" Bors yelled, looking for the boy. Dagonet looked pained, letting the boy push past him and fall to his friends side.

"Cad!" Galahad wailed, "No! Please no!" By this time, all of us had gathered around, grief in all our eyes. Arthur held Cadman's hand on one side, my own hand still gripped in a painfully tight clasp on the other. Cadman's eyes dimmed, half lidded, Galahad sobbed, leaning over him. With a sigh, Cad's bright blue eyes closed, his body going still, never to breathe again. It was our first loss, and no one moved for a long time.

* * *

The ride back to the fort was totally silent. No one did anything, no one said a word. Cadman's horse plodded steadily, head down, seeming to know that the weight on his back was not his master, it was a shell. Dock sniffled beside me, and I nudged Rend onwards, trying to escape the tears before I could cry myself.

I'd been so pleased to see my destrier, grazing nonchalantly beside the wall, I'd flung myself on him, wrapping my arms around his neck, rubbing my bloodstained nose into his familiar scent. Han had pulled me into a weary, one armed hug, his other arm limp at his side, strained with all the fighting. For an hour afterwards, people were retrieving weapons and shifting the dead. The blue men and women were burned outside the wall, the sickly black smoke billowing away into the north.

Then we'd left. No one was seriously injured, the worst was Gawain, who'd lost a small chunk of his thigh, and myself, though I noted gratefully that my makeshift bandage was holding thus far. It seemed cruel that there should be no serious injuries and yet Cadman was now lying over the back of his horse, dead and cold.

I'll never forget the sobs of relief coming from Vanora, Arlana and Therin as we'd returned, throwing themselves on us. I'd never been particularly close to my cousin, but Therin cried out brokenly and threw herself into my arms, sobbing. I'd patted her head awkwardly and passed her to Han, limping into the stables and going into the routine of stabling Rend. I was blood soaked, weary and emotionally drained. And I was currying my horse. The battle memories hit me with all the force of a raging river, and I almost fell over. Arlana ran to me, pulling me away from the horse and sitting me down. I looked at her blankly. What was she doing? Her tears dried, she looked me over firmly, and seeing the bandage on my leg, asked me if Dock had seen it. Shaking my head numbly, I let her run for Dock, staring into the straw.

This life was exhausting me already, thrilling me with it's death lust; I'd killed so much more than men today. I'd killed a part of myself.

* * *

Sitting in my room by myself, hours later, I didn't know what to do. I was clean now. Bandaged and washed. My armour was clean. Swords and daggers tended to. There was nothing to distract myself with. I ran my fingers over the arrow cut on my ckeek, feeling it's length onmy cheekbone, thinking about the battle.The tears fell slowly at first, but fast became a torrent of sadness. I buried my head in my pillow and howled. Howled loud and long, screaming out my pain. Cadman was dead, I'd become a killer, life as a knight was looming ahead of me, and I hated it. Great, wracking sobs shook me, painful, dragging, aching. I cried for an hour, the longest hour of my life.

Silent, I lay exhausted on my back, breathing lightly, trying to calm myself. I heard footsteps every now and then, but no one came in. Venetia hadn't returned from the tavern.

Footsteps, and silence. "Lancelot,"

"Arthur." The muffled voices drifted through the closed door, I frowned a little. "Arthur? Are you alright? What is it?" I sat up, eyes wide, worried for my Commander. Arthur's quiet voice was laced with sadness.

"It's Alessandro."

* * *

Thankee velly much, please review. S'pecially long chapter for you all, so I'm counting on it! 


	18. Take Me Away

Reviewers;

**Op: Thank you! **I was sooooo happy with the battle comment! I was worried it wasn't very good!

**Ailis-70: Yeah, **there's a little bit of a triangle happening there. This chapter should be enlightening though. I love Tristan to bits! But I have got him as Angry. It's just the way I think he was when he was younger. Kind of Feral…grins

**June Birdie: Heh, **sorry I've got you all panicky. It's not so bad, trust me! Thank you very very much for the battle scene comment! I'm pleased! Don't be sadder! ps. I love your story B!tch Like Me (renamed now, I know-tis fabby!)

Angst people, angst!

(This title was inspired by the song "Take Me Away" by Fefe Dobson, and the song you'll see further down is somewhat the lyrics, only slightly mixed about. I don't own it!)

It's not a long chapter, but it's clarification more than anything else in my eyes. Enjoy!

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Chapter 17-Take Me Away

I scrambled out of my bed, flinging myself to the door, I fell against it before managing to wrench it open. Arthur and Lancelot looked shocked as I blurted, "Alessandro?" This uncharacteristic display must have shaken them, but the irritation that swirled through my eyes must have provoked them to close their gaping mouths. "I was about to say to Lancelot that he's woken up and his fever is gone." Arthur said, a confused, tired and weary voice, juxtaposed by the happiness that I had missed as I'd lain in my bed. I felt a wave of relief sweep through me and I leant against the doorframe, raising a hand to rub my face, wincing as I accidentally knocked away the healing scab over the cut on my cheek. Lancelot frowned as blood spilled over my face in a small trickle, I felt it drip from my jaw and onto my shirt. Arthur nodded at me and walked away, not another word passing his mouth. Lancelot looked at his back, frown deepening on his handsome face.

"He's grieving." I murmured, swiping the blood away, looking at my Commander's slumped shoulders and bowed head. "He probably feels wrong for being happy that Alessandro is alright and Cadman is lying in the morgue." I added as an after thought, turning and going back into the room, leaving the door open for Lancelot to follow if he so wished. He did, shutting the door behind him and sinking with a groan onto Venetia's bed. "I couldn't make top nor tail of today." He murmured sadly as I washed the blood from my face with a wet cloth.

"I _told_ Arthur they were too young!" He yelled suddenly, surprising me. I jerked my hand, accidentally gouging my cut with my nails. With a hiss, I dropped the cloth and clamped a hand to my face. "Shit." I hissed, hoping Lancelot didn't hear me, fury broiling inside me; as it always did when I was hurting. Luckily, he didn't. "I _told_ him," he moaned, burying his face in his hands. "If I'd made more of an effort, none of this would have happened." He continued brokenly. I dipped the cloth in the washbowl and wrung it out, pressing it to my face, collecting my crimson stream that flowed from the aggravated gouge. Crossing to him, I hunkered down and pulled a hand harshly away, thrusting the bloodied cloth under his nose with a snarl. "You see this?" I snapped, my anger getting the better of me. Lancelot stared at the cloth, then at my face, his own blood draining from his face. "Yes or no?" I growled, shaking his wrist tightly in my grip. "Yes." He whispered.

"Good. You'll be seeing a hell of a lot more of it if you don't stop lingering on the 'what if's.'" I snarled, flinging his wrist away and straightening. Lancelot stood up, anger colouring his face. "What is that supposed to mean!" He yelled, fists clenched tightly at his side. I looked at him angrily, throwing the cloth to the ground, clenching my jaw to stop myself bursting into hysterical screams all over again.

"It means, what's done is done, it can't be changed. Accept it." Lancelot looked furious for a moment, then his shoulders slumped. "It's part of life. While it's horrible, many more of us will die before our service ends." I continued in a (to my surprise) forlorn tone. Memories of my own home pressed in my head; running in the grasslands, swimming in the rivers. "I just want it to stop." Lancelot whispered, "Cad was too young, he was the same age as-." He broke off, looking at me. I cottoned on and nodded, stony faced.

"You lost someone."

Lancelot shifted awkwardly, clearly wanting off the subject. I turned away and said in a final tone, "Lancelot, Arthur will appreciate a friend to guide him. I have a feeling his God cannot provide the necessary comfort today." Lancelot paused at the door, and I turned around again, raising an eyebrow.

"Thank you."

"For what?" I asked softly, reaching down to pick up the cloth I'd childishly flung to the ground.

"Being my friend to talk to." He closed the door behind him, and I smiled softly.

"I want it all to stop too." I told the empty air. "Take me away…" I whispered to the Saviour that wasn't there.

* * *

Venetia's return had prompted my departure. I didn't feel like being around people. Grabbing a few things I headed to the bathouse. It was the middle of the night, but I didn't care. I needed to think. The tavern was still roaring with knights, though there wasn't many Romans around. Most had gone to fill Vercovicivm in the stead of the dead. A new load would arrive in a few days, I realised miserably.

The torch lit baths were warm, and I slid into the water with a groan, pleased there were no observers to my plight. My arms were aching like nothing I'd ever felt; a result of the fighting. My leg stung as it slid under the surface, the bandage becoming saturated, the red stain on it fading into the water. I spread my arms out, flicking my legs out to lie straight, I was stretched in the shape of a Christian Cross. I closed my eyes with a sigh, relishing the water. I didn't normally bathe this often. Twice in a day was almost unheard of with the other knights. I silence around me was calming, dulling my senses with a blissful blanket of carelessness. Ripples lapped against my skin, and I immediately opened my eyes and slid to place my feet on the bottom of the pool. Finn merely smiled sadly as he slid the rest of the way into the water; I was incredibly grateful that I'd continued to wear my breastband and loincloth in the water, and made a note to continue to do so for my entire service to Rome. He slumped wearily against the steps, lolling his head back, eyes closed. I waded quietly towards him, sinking down beside him, gently washing water up and down my exposed arms.

"How are you?" Finn asked with a voice much older than his eighteen winters. I almost flinched at the sound; the youthful, grinning Finn had been replaced with a stranger. I chided myself silently, reminding myself of the howling mess I'd become only a few hours before; a rare occurrence. What would Finn have said if he'd heard me? "Been better." I admitted, pulling my knees up to my chest and resting my chin on them, looking morosely at the patterns of torchlight in the water.

"You?"

"Been better."

"Thought so."

We sat in silence for a while, until I could feel my fingertips and toes starting to wrinkle. Sighing, I tilted my head towards Finn and told him I was getting out. He merely nodded, staring into the water. I fought down the feeling of hurt-why should I be hurting; there was nothing serious between us…was there?-and climbed out of the baths. The changing rooms were steamy, clouds of humidity wrapping around me as I reached for my slightly damp towelling rag. Wrapping the cloth around me, I made for the second room, where my clothes lay. Struggling to pull my shirt over my damp skin, I swore in frustration. I heard a chuckle, and before I could turn around, felt gentle hands tugging my shirt down properly.

Finn smiled sadly, a pensive, deep look in his eyes that haunted me slightly. "There will be many more after this." I said in a brisk tone, turning away and grabbing my hair ties, twisting my hair into a knot and securing it. Finn grabbed my shoulders, spinning me around. I stiffened, unsure of what was happening. "Does that mean we shouldn't grieve?" He asked, looking at me with something close to disbelief. I frowned, shrugging off his grip and stepping back. "No. It means we shouldn't mourn the life they had." Finn shook his head, turning away. I picked up my clothes and left, unwilling to spend more time around grieving people.

After throwing my things rather violently into my room, I leant against the wall outside my room and clenched my fists. What was wrong with everyone? Why couldn't they celebrate the life that Cad had while he was young? He wouldn't have to serve Rome for whoever knows how long now. He was free. I pushed off the wall, running my fingers through the curls that had escaped my messy knot. I walked away from the room, not caring where my feet took me, as long as it wasn't near people.

* * *

In the end, my feet took me to Alessandro. Why, I couldn't say, as I'd been determined not to suffer another persons company for a long while. I poked my head around the infirmary door and smiled softly. Arthur and Rowena lay entwined on a bed, asleep. Melva and Brenna were nowhere in sight. The pair looked incredibly peaceful, so I crept into the room and over to the cot next to the bed. Alessandro gurgled at me, grinning and smacking his hands together happily. "Hello, little man." I whispered, letting him grasp my fingers in a surprisingly strong grip. "I see you're feeling better." He blew a loud noise from his lips and I struggled not to laugh. "You sound like Bors when he's sleeping. Though," I said after a moment of thought, "His noise comes from the other end."

"Pick him up, if you want." I started, eyes flying to Rowena and Arthur. Rowena watched me from Arthur's loving arms, smiling gently. She looked wan, bags under her eyes and her skin pale and grey. Nonetheless, she looked happy. I looked down at Alessandro, who waved his arms at me, cooing. I reached down and pulled him up, settling him on my hip as he cackled and grasped my hair. "Ow, you little bugger." I laughed, gently taking my hair from his fingers. "That hurt." Rowena chuckled wearily. "You can take him for a walk if you want, give me and Arthur a break?" I nodded, pulling the blanket out of his cot and wrapping it around him securely. I held him out for Rowena's inspection. "That right?"

"Aye." She murmured, snuggling further down into our Commander's arms and closing her eyes again. "I told you you weren't all that bad with children." I snorted, looking down at the giggling, burbling mass in my arms. "That remains to be seen." I muttered as I left, closing the infirmary door behind me.

Alessandro, I discovered, was a very happy child. He giggled almost constantly, all the way to the wall top. I hugged him into my jerkin as the cold wind swept the battlements. "You see, it's not that I'm not grieving too, but it's more I'm not as sad as the rest of them." I told him seriously, looking down into his bright blue eyes. "It's like they think Cad is still suffering, but he's not."

Gurgle.

"You agree?"

Giggle.

"Good. Thanks." I kissed the top of his head. Alessandro mumbled, tugging my shirt.

He giggled suddenly, grabbing my hair again. I couldn't help but burst out laughing. "You're going to drive your mother mad when you're older." I told him with a smile. He buried his head in my chest, suddenly sleepy. I smiled, sinking down to sit with my back against the battlement wall. Gently, I rocked him, whispering nonsense to him, chuckling as he gurgled back at me. Softly, I began to sing. I never sang to anyone, but Alessandro was hardly going to tell his mother.

"Take me away,

Take me far away from here,

Don't be afraid,

I'll take you and run,

Run far away from here."

Alessandro mumbled and slept soundly, and I stood, pleased with my progress of childcare. "Time to get you back I think." I told the sleeping child, "I don't want you to get ill again." Crossing the compound, I hummed away to myself and the baby, until something caught my eye. Finn and a tavern wench indulged themselves in kisses, fumbling in the shadows of the yard. A slight twinge of annoyance and...hurt…pinged in my stomach. "You know," I said clearly as I passed, "A room really has a bed for a reason." Finn wrenched himself off for a moment, eyes wide. "Dax! Oh shit...look, I…" I walked on, ignoring him. Walking briskly to the infirmary, I lowered Alessandro into his cot and kissed his head softly, unaware that Arthur was awake. "You must be the only man I don't think I want to kill every now and then." I murmured fondly, stroking his head.

"Well I know we have our differences…" Arthur spoke up, shifting slightly around Rowena. "But I didn't think I was that bad." I straightened, looking at Arthur sadly.

He smiled softly, looking concerned. "It's nothing," I said before he could say anything.

"You should get some sleep. We're burying him tomorrow." Arthur said finally. I frowned at the replacement of Cad's name with 'him'. I nodded, looking down into the cot once again before leaving.

I could hear the tavern quietening, and I passed Bair, Galahad and Gawain in the corridors. Apparently, Bors had got into a rather drunken fight with three Romans and managed to best them all, passing out with drunkenness after throwing the last one into the horse trough. Grinning, I bade them goodnight and continued, passing Dagonet (who was carrying our loud mouthed, passed out friend) with a chuckle. Letting myself into the room, I immediately backed out again. Venetia was snoring loud enough to wake the dead. I winced at my term of phrase as soon as I thought it. Sighing, I opened the door and grabbed my blankets from my bed before making my way out of the barracks and towards the stables.

Settling in the hayloft, I wrapped my blankets around me and closed my eyes, listening to the soft whickering of the horses. Sleep was desperate to enfold me, my battle weary body crying out for rest. Sounds dulled and faded, the blackness of sleep enfolding me. Once more sound that I heard pushed back the darkness; someone was climbing the ladder to the hayloft.

* * *

aaaaand i'll leave it there.. grins evilly Please review, i'd like to know what you think-and yes, Dax is being very harsh and lets be honest, a bit of a bitch in this chapter, don't flame please!

Who is coming into the hayloft? ahahah!


	19. Innocence Lost

I would like to say a special thank you to two of my reviewers, as they have made me smile and laugh and become more motivated to write. These reviewers are **Ailis-70**, and **Cardeia. **I was pleased and proud to discover that Ailis-70 had recommended me to Cardeia (beautiful name, by the way!) who, in turn, wrote a lovely review that has had me smiling for most of the day. This chapter is dedicated to the pair of you, for your support and understanding of my fanfiction! I'm honoured to have two such reviewers, thank you.

I still love the rest of you too! 

**Op; **I have a knack of doing that, don't I? You're in love with me? Kudos:**Grins**: enjoy this chapter

**June Birdie**; Thank you for reviewing! I wasn't too sure whether Dax was being a bit too harsh with Lancelot, that I might have turned her grief into something else entirely, I agree with your comment! As for who is climbing the ladder? Read on, mes amie!

**LANCELOTTRISTANBABY**; Thanks, here you go!

Angst and ooh-ah in store folks! Want a seatbelt! (I was in a rather strange mood when I wrote this…)

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Chapter 19- Innocence Lost

I lay very still, breathing quietly, hoping that whoever it was wouldn't see me amidst the hay. A sob broke the silence, "D-d-ax?" I sat bolt upright, shocked.

Dock crawled towards me in the small space, his face pale and streaked with anguished tears.

"Dock! What is it, what's wrong?" I cried, gathering the weeping boy into my arms, rocking him back and forth gently as he grabbed my shirtfront and cried. He wailed quietly, his whole body shaking. He was only a head smaller than me, but I cursed my size, wishing I were bigger, better built to hold him closer. His sobs tore the quiet; even the horses had silenced themselves. After a few minutes in which I merely held him close, stroking his sandy hair gently, murmuring soothing nonsense into his ears, his whimpers quietened, and he drew away slightly, sitting on my crossed legs, wiping his eyes. He leant into me for comfort, so I wrapped an arm loosely around his slight shoulders, letting him tuck his head under my chin as I felt a few rogue tears drip onto my collarbone and slide down my skin. "What is it, sweetheart?" I asked, wrapping my other arm around him and rubbing his arms, trying to glean some warmth into him; he was deathly pale and shaking. "What's gotten you like this?" I was a little scared. Dock had never done anything like this, always doing something mischievous and amusing, never complaining and certainly never crying. The warmth in the hayloft began to pay off as a little bit of pink returned to his cheeks, shown by the torchlight from the brackets far underneath the loft boards.

"I couldn't save them." He whispered, eyes staring at something I couldn't see, something, by the look in his bright, tear filled eyes and mournful expression, that was worthy of the title 'hell'.

"Who?" I asked, concerned. Dock shook his head, a small whimper escaping his tightly pressed mouth. "I walked into that infirmary and I went to a man." He said, a low tone I was unfamiliar with seeming to resonate in the deafening quiet. I didn't say anything, realising that he just needed to talk. "H-he was screaming." Dock swallowed, shaking, before he ploughed onwards. "I held my fingers to his neck-it was a hole. In his neck. An arrow. H-he couldn't scream very well. One of the Romans on the other beds shouted at him to shut up-that he was squealing like a stuck pig. Told me I may as well let him die. His blood was on my face." My eyes widened as I listened, shocked beyond anything that I'd ever felt. I remembered watching from horseback, seeing him at the infirmary door, blood spattered in moments.

"Someone else had a leg missing. He wanted me to find it and sew it back on." Dock shuddered, wrapping his arms around my neck tightly, burying his face in my neck, mumbling. "He wouldn't let go of me, even once he was dead I couldn't get away until a Roman medic prised his fingers off." I unwound his arms, pushing up his sleeves gently. Dock's thin, white arm was black and blue halfway up, just below the elbow. Finger-marks emblazoned on his innocent skin. Big, fat, wet tears rolled from his eyes again as he re-lived the memories. "I helped as much as I could. I was s-so s-s-scared…" I wrapped him up in my arms, letting a few tears escape my eyes as the boy I considered my brother sobbed brokenly in my embrace. "Aa-and Cad!" Dock cried, fierce suddenly. "It's not fair, Dax! H-he's dead! It's not _fair_!" He scrunched up his fists and sobbed, a keening wail that broke my heart into a thousand pieces. Pulling him to me again, I ignored the fists he beat on my shoulders and upper chest, wincing only slightly as one fist accidentally hit my cut, sending a wave of pain through my face. "I dreamt about it. I was alright until I slept." He moaned, stilling. "They were waiting for me on the boatman's barge, they looked so mad…" I pulled back a little, tilting his chin up so I could see his face in a shaft of torchlight. "The dead cannot harm us, Dock." I said firmly, "No matter what you dream, they are dead, and you are alive. That is what matters." He sniffled, wiping his eyes. "Understand?" I asked more gently, looking into his eyes. He nodded, and a small, sad smile turned the corners of his mouth as he whispered a thank you. I hugged him again, wondering when I had become so maternal.

"Dock?" The pair of us jumped, surprised. Dagonet called again, worry clear in his tone. "Go on." I whispered, giving him a playful little nudge, "Let me get some sleep." Dock nodded, shuffling off my lap. "Coming Dag!" He called down the ladder. Before he disappeared, I called to him quietly, "Dock?" He looked up, questioning. "I know what happened to Cad wasn't fair, but the ones that love us, never truly leave us. I'll always be around for you to talk to." He looked grateful, before nodding, and vanishing down the ladders to the questioning tone of our friendly giant. Lying back in the straw, I closed my eyes. However, it was a long time before I could finally claim to be asleep.

* * *

Soft lips pressed to mine gently, hesitantly, stirring me from my sleep. I mumbled against them, still half away. They moved away, a soft chuckle reaching my ears. My eyes snapped open, and a deep, whirling brown was all I could see. I froze, realising with a huge degree of shock that I was lying under a firm body, my legs parted slightly, wrists on either side of my head gripped gently as Tristan leant on his elbows.

"What are you..?" I was cut off as his mouth descended on mine once again; a little more insistent this time. Knowing I would be furious with myself later, I responded, letting him part my mouth to deepen the kiss. He tasted of the wild. Unleashed and untamed, it made my heart pound in my throat and my stomach churn into flip-flops. Releasing my hands, Tristan wound his fingers in my curly, straw filled hair, one hand underneath my neck to pull me still closer. I shivered as he pulled away, a teasing, pleased look in his eyes. Twitching his mouth in what I dared to think was a denial of a grin, he picked strands of straw from my hair, silent. "What was that?" I asked in a sickeningly breathless voice. "He leant his head down to brush his lips against my ear. "In some places, it's called a kiss." Despite myself, I laughed, closing my eyes. "Are you still angry with me?" He asked after a moment, content to lie with his head buried in my neck. I frowned, unsure. This close to me, i couldn't find a reason to stay mad.

"Yes." I said finally. "But not as much. Why do you get so…angry?" I finished lamely. "I'm not a possession. Nor have you ever given me reason to believe I belong to you." Tristan shifted, tensing a little.

"It's a story for another time, Dax." He muttered, pushing himself up and rolling off. "Arthur wants us all in the Meeting Hall. We're burying Cadman in an hour." My happy feeling began to rapidly dissipate, memories of Dock's tears last night swamping me. Another issue burned at me. "Was that why you came to find me?" I asked stiffly as I rolled my blanket up and tossed it down the ladders, beginning to descend. Tristan's hands gripped mine, pulling me back up the ladder. His eyes burned into mine, anger and lust sparking in them. "I found you three hours ago.Finn came up to tell me to tell you when you awoke."

I blushed, realising whatFinn might have thought when he saw the scout and I in the hayloft. Then i remembered the tavern wench and swore, quietly. Tristan raised an eyebrow and released me, letting me climb down the rest of the way. My anger couldn't find stable ground and I felt myself warming to him all over again as we walked in companiable silence to the hall, and I even let a small smile flit across my face when I felt his rough palm slip into mine. I thought hard about what I was doing. Finn was a good friend, but I wasn't sure what to do. After all, if I'd meant that much to him, he wouldn't have been dirtying the shadows with a tavern wench, would he? I pushed my thoughts away as we entered the hall, hand's separated, crossing to our respective seats. Arthur looked wan as he rose, and silence fell. I noted with a pleased rush that Rowena was sat next to him, Alessandro in her arms. My mind dimmed as Arthur began to talk, grief numbing most of my other thoughts.

It was later, in the cemetery, that as I stood, Tristan's hand in mine, watching the dirt raining down on the linen wrapped bundle in the ground, listening to the resounding silence, that I realised something. Finn was staring at me with a hurt expression. I raised my eyes to his, clenching my jaw a little. Nodding to him, I coldly regarded the dirt that fell upon one of our youngest, fighting the urge to run from this lost innocence.

* * *

Please review, I'd like to know what you thought. I know Dax seems a bit all over every boy who kisses her, i ask you to think on how you would feel should the man you think you might be falling for was caught in the shadows! Also, it's Tristan. Come on, people!

Sorry it's so short by the way..

Yours,

The Wild Woman.


	20. Upheaval

Whew, I'm back! After two weeks of holidays and plot bunnies, I'm back. Thank you to all who reviewed in the last chapter, I hope you enjoy this one!

Angsty, you've been warned.

This takes place around 8 months after Cad's funeral.

* * *

Upheaval

Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and fort life was continued. I trained most days, or else went out riding in the hope of meeting Woads.

Life was, sadly, quiet. I burned with anger at the death of Cadman, and yearned for a chance to have a good, strong skirmish with the Blue Demons. Tristan watched me all the time, unnerving me. I knew what he was thinking. He told me, rather pointedly in the stables a month after Cadman's funeral.

"_You'll not gain satisfaction this way." I paused, my saddle half fastened to Rend's back. Without turning around, I muttered, "You don't know the way I think." Tristan snorted, walking about in the soft straw. It was too early for Jols and Arlana to be about, this was how I liked it. Leave early, return late. We were alone. _

"_You'd be surprised." He said quietly as I finished the chore, turned to get my sword, bow and quiver, which I had leant against the stall wall as I'd saddled my horse. They were gone. Clenching my jaw, I hissed, "_Tristan_."_

"_What?" Came his oddly innocent voice from the shadows. I closed my eyes next, struggling to reign in my temper. "I'm not playing games." _

"_Neither am I." He replied, a sharp lilt to his voice. "You're going to get yourself killed." He stepped out, holding my weapons, I raised an eyebrow. _

"_Give them back." I said calmly, trying with some success to calm the raging beast in my chest that yearned to leap for him and teach him a lesson. He raised his eyebrow._

"_No." _

"_Now!" _

"_No." _

_I leapt. Crashing into him, I grabbed my weapons with a snarl and rolled up, pushing up from the dirt floor of the stables. Tristan, winded, grabbed my ankle, pulling. Swearing, I crashed down again, hitting my cheek sharply on the stall wall. "You bastard!" _

"_You bitch!" He retorted, gasping. I lay still for a moment, trying to regain my senses. _

"_Don't…don't ride out today." He wheezed, shifting so he lay on his front, looking at me. I sighed, rolling to lie on my back, staring at the wooden planks of the hayloft. "Fine." I muttered dully, disappointed in my own resolve. This man could make me do anything. I felt a small trickle run down my face. Raising a hand, I wiped away the blood that ran down from the small cut that had opened on the wall of the stall. I'd get a lovely bruise. I snorted with laughter suddenly. All I could think about was bruising. Tristan pushed himself to his knees, leaning over me. I watched him curiously; he hadn't kissed me since the morning in the hayloft. _

"_You're a funny girl." He whispered, tilting his head slightly. His braids fell into his face and he brushed them away with a casual hand. Suddenly, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to mine; my heart roared. Lying there, entangled in each other and straw, I was at peace. _

That day was to be the start of many stolen kisses; grabbed into alcoves and pushed into empty rooms, it was like a dance, or a game. Cat and mouse, hunted and hunter, primal, fierce. It was the way I liked it. We didn't belong together, we both knew that, but it was sheer passion that drove us to this. Tristan used whores, I flirted with men. It wasn't a relationship, but it was something. Tristan never lay with his whores for hours in comfortable silence, he didn't seek them out. He did these things with me. I was a sort of comfortable friend for whom he felt something.

My friends amongst the knights had no idea, and I suppose this is what made it all the more dangerous. When we were in company, we behaved as friends. After Cadman's funeral, Finn had sought me out and asked what was going on. I'd walked away, not sure myself. It was almost three months after that incident that Tristan wasn't the only one with whom I was holding stolen moments. I frowned. It was almost as though I was a whore, though I had not gone that far with anyone, and had no plans to. I sighed, resting my chin on my knees. There was only one solution. It would have to stop. I would not be used. I wanted a man who would take me and love me, not attack me in the halls and drag me off for a good 'hay-rolling' session somewhere in the fort.

* * *

Another morning, another day, same windowsill. I sat huddled on the sill, cloak wrapped around me to ward off the impending winter chill. The fort was still quiet, the morning light having not yet woken the rooster kept in the yards. I watched the cold clouds forming in the air, over the mountains to the east. Finally, after what felt like hours of thought, the rooster shrieked and wailed. "_Shut up_! Bloody bird!" I grinned, Bors must have stayed with Vanora last night.

Sliding off the windowsill, I meandered down the corridors in a sort of melancholy daze, a small smile playing around my lips. I was in a strange mood this morning, feeling sad and strangely euphoric at the same time. I leant over a rain barrel in the yards, studying the reflection I saw there. My hair swung forwards, a long, curly, reddish brown mess of wildness. Eyes, grey and sharp, wide and heavily lashed. Mouth, generous, I supposed. Nose, I wrinkled it up, a bit on the smallish side in my opinion. Jaw, strong and smooth. I was me, and me was I. Nothing special. I wondered what Tristan and Finn saw in me.

Straightening, I trailed my fingers a moment before walking on, half lidded eyes looking at the ground. Suddenly, I was snatched, yanked into a room, the door slammed after me. Stumbling, I grabbed a table for balance, sighing. I close my eyes for a moment, before straightening and turning around. Before I could say anything, I was kissed, harsh and hungry. Tristan. Finn was never this rough. Mumbling softly, I pushed him away. Bowing my head. He stood before me, close, chest heaving. "What?" He mumbled, voice laden with something I could not describe, hands raising to grasp the tops of my arms. "What is it?"

He didn't wait for an answer before ducking his head towards my mouth. I stiffened in his grasp, pushing his leather covered chest. "Leave me alone, Tristan." He instantly let go. I raised my eyes to his, dread and sorrow heavy in my chest. He was looking at me with a dangerous expression. "It's happened, hasn't it."

"What?" I asked, confused. Tristan looked away, incensed.

"_Finn! _He's convinced you to love him and only him." He snarled, his nose a scant hairsbreadth from mine. I shook mentally, refusing to show it on the outside. I'd never seen him this angry. I'd never seen him this emotional. "I wasn't aware love had anything to do with this. And I haven't seen Finn since yesterday." I replied in a murmur, sliding away from him to head for the door.

"I won't be used as a whore, Tristan. We both know that this is passion and nothing else. I won't be seeing Finn like this anymore either."

Tristan snarled again, pushing me out of the way, bruising my arm painfully and slamming the door out of it's place, letting it crash against the wall as he left. I stumbled backwards and crashed into the wall opposite the door, sliding down the wall I wrapped my arms around my knees, eyes wide. Why was he so angry? I thought he wouldn't care, he treated me like a rag…but he'd never hurt me before.

"Little Fire?" I looked up from my perusal of the floor. Han stood in the doorway, all reassuring warmth and family love. I swayed to my feet, the beginning of a raging headache stinging my eyes. Han crossed the threshold, but all I could see was booted feet. Tears rolled down my face as I let out a little sniffle. "Hey, what's wrong?" he whispered, pulling me into a hug. I sobbed, burying my face in his reassuring shoulder, smelling home in the worn fabrics. "Feeling…s-sick." I choked out, unwilling to tell him of my jaunts, for fear he would leave me, disgusted. "That's not it." He whispered as he swung me off the floor, wrapping me up in his arms and walking out of the room, heading for the infirmary. "It may be part, but it's not all."

I sniffled, digging myself deeper into his arms, unwilling to talk. I was barely aware of his setting me down on the bed, or that Therin and Brenna were stumbling from their respective bedrooms in the infirmary. He kissed the top of my head and mumbled something to Therin. He looked back at me and frowned, before leaving. Brenna mumbled and went back to bed, while Therin perched on the edge of my bed. I sniffled weakly and offered her a watery smile. "Headache." I murmured.

"S'not what Han says." She said kindly. I gave her a pleading look, until she stood and crossed to her worktop, pouring mixtures and herbs together, heating it. I sat in silence, watching her. After a while, she came back to me, placing a warm mug of herbal mixture in my hands.

"So what's really the matter?" She asked. I studied her. It was so long since I'd talked to another woman about my troubles; Therin as my cousin, a woman I could trust.

"Its'… Tristan." Instantly, her face transformed.

"Tristan!" She whispered, eyes wide. I flushed, mumbling, "And Finn."

"You lucky harpy!" She laughed suddenly, grinning. At my sombre look, she quieted, sensing that this was what was wrong.

"What is it?"

So I told her. I told her about feeling used, the emotion inside me, the thought that I was only there for their amusement. I told her about my insecurity and my hopeless wish for a man who loved me in a way that I felt Tristan and Finn could not. After I'd finished, Therin leant over and hugged me warmly, her eyes shining. "You've never told anyone? Why?" She whispered. "Surely you didn't think that because we'd left home, I'd stop being your cousin?" I frowned, thinking back.

"No," I said finally, "It was just that I'd been so busy, only having time to think on my own. I didn't want to bother anyone either." I said honestly. Therin rolled her eyes.

"You shouldn't keep this all inside. You'll do something silly." She admonished. I didn't tell her that I'd been Woad Hunting almost every week. I yawned suddenly, feeling the effects of Therin's brew. "You should sleep for a little while. It's still early; no one'll be down for breakfast for another hour. Sleep until then, I'll wake you up." She said, standing and tucking blankets around me. "Dax, don't worry about Finn and Tristan. They don't deserve you." I smiled sadly, thinking about everything that had happened this morning, and it was only two hours or so into the day. I closed my eyes, drifting off into a sleep with no dreams.

When I woke, it was to Dock's enquiring face. "You alright? You've been crying." It wasn't a question. I felt my face and noted with a sour scowl that my skin was dry and stretched.

"Aye. T'was nothing." I said glibly, swinging my legs over the bed and rising. Dock raised an eyebrow, handing me my cloak, which Therin must have removed. I wrapped it around myself, half listening to Dock chatting away about some trick Gawain and Galahad had played on a Roman lord in the bathhouses, something to do with stealing clothes. I grinned a little, letting him lead me to a table in the tavern. Settling on the bench, I continued to listen to the tirade. After he'd finished, breathless, I continued to eat, silent. "So why where you crying?" He asked, sipping his soup. Inwardly, I swore. Would the boy not desist?

"I was hurting." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the full truth. Dock seemed to take this answer well, shrugging his small shoulders. "We have to go to the round table this morning." He said suddenly. I looked up.

"When?"

"Soon." He finished his meal, and stood. I followed suit, having already finished. We ambled to the hall, taking our seats. Han wasn't there, but Galian was.

"Morning, my Little Fire!" He said cheerily, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "How are you this fine morrow?" I grinned. Galian was only in this mood after one thing.

"Which barmaid was it this time?" I asked with a small smile. Galian pretended a look of shock.

"Do I need a reason to be cheery to my friends in the morning!" He joked. I swatted him laughing.

"Why're we here? Do you know?" I asked after a moment. Galian's face fell slightly.

"Some of us are to go south for a while. They're having trouble with some of the Cornovii rebels." My insides twisted. Who was to go? Who was to stay. As the hall filled, Han sat to my other side and the three of us were silent. I didn't look at Tristan as he sat down. Nor did I look at Finn.

Arthur cleared his throat, rendering the hall silent.

"Knights," he began in a shaky voice, "I've been torn recently with harsh decisions. The Roman Empire has many outposts, one of which, in the south west, has had trouble form rebels. The post is Viroconium. I am to send four of you down for three months." Mutters and grumbles ran through the hall. Arthur looked uncomfortable and sad, "I've chosen the four."

"Who are they then?" Demanded Galahad in the silence, earning a cuff on the back of the head from Bair.

Our leader took a deep breath.

"They are……"

* * *

I'll leave it there. Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I would be pleased if you would review. I've been on holiday, so I'm a bit rusty… be nice please…

Reviewers! (betcha thought I wouldn't reply…)

**Ailis-70: **I'm glad you liked Dock in this chapter, I thought I should show that he's still a child, not a hardened medic.. though I am sorry I made you cry!

Bit of a change with Brooding Boy in this chapter I know, but it's necessary… you'll see why. Don't be mad! And yes, I had noticed the way you and Cardeia review! I love it!

**Cardeia: **Hi! Thanks for the review! You understand my characters extremely well, and I'm pleased about that.

I was glad I brought Dock up too, I thought he needed to be shown a little more.

You're welcome about the name, btw!

**I seem to have lost some of my other reviewers, if you would please give me some feedback, I can improve my writing !**


	21. Home Is Where The Heart Is

Voila!En Update! 

* * *

Home is Where the Heart Is. 

Time seemed to slow down as Arthur studied the table-top. He didn't want to send us away. I could see why. Chances were, some of us might not come back. Mumbling something gently, Rowena placed a hand on his arm, giving him strength.

Arthur looked up, eyes sad.

"Venetia." He said quietly. I started. They were sending away my roommate.

"Gawain." Arlana gave a muffled sob, clenching her brother's hand tightly.

"Tristan." A stoic nod. No one really moved.

"Daxera."

I froze. Me? Away. With _Tristan_. Drawing a deep breath, I nodded, not really feeling Han's reassuring grip on my hand. As Arthur began to talk again, seeming to gather courage at the act no one protested, I let the conversation fade from my mind. I was not going to survive this. Could I trust myself to hold to my promise? Would I stay away from the Scout. I hoped so. I felt used, by both Finn and Tristan-neither had ever told me they had feelings for me. I glanced at Venetia. She sat rigidly, listening to Arthur. Or appearing to; the tell tale glaze in her eyes and her grip on the arms of her chair spoke otherwise.

"Tristan, Venetia, Dax, Gawain, stay behind please." Arthur finished, as the others rose from their seats and left, relief clear on many faces.

I couldn't have moved if I wanted to. We remained seated, while Han dropped a kiss on the top of my head, patting my shoulder as he passed.

The door closed after Rowena and Lancelot, who both cast worried glances back at Arthur, and we were alone.

"I'm sorry." Arthur groaned, dropping into his seat with a thump, burying his head in his hands. "I'm so, so sorry." Unused to seeing Arthur this way, the four of us shifted slightly.

"Arthur," Venetia began hesitantly, "It's not any fault of yourn, it the Roman Empire who ask this of us."

"Aye," Gawain said bracingly, "You've naught to be sorry for."

Arthur peeked up at us.

"You are leaving the day after tomorrow. I ask only one thing of you all." He looked around at each of us in turn, piercing green eyes mournful and expressively saddened. "Look out for each other. Keep the other safe, make sure your back are always covered." Nodding, I smiled tightly, still mulishly thinking of the journey down. The journey down.

"How are we to know where we're going?" I asked suddenly. Arthur looked even more sorrowful. I wished he would stop-it made me feel guilty. Also, seeing my commander like this was worrying, a Commander who apologised and moped was not a strong one. Arthur was better than this. I knew that.

"You're going to travel with the Captain Marcus Aurelius, the first captain of Centurion Gaius." At first, Tristan, Venetia and I looked non-plussed. Gawain, however, banged his head on the tabletop.

"You're joking, Arthur." He said hollowly, voice muffled by the tabletop."That man is a beast."

"Who…?" Venetia asked, trailing off. A torch lit in my head.

"We travelled here with him. He took us from our homes." I growled, looking Arthur straight in the eyes. The handsome man nodded, shaking his head.

"If I could have it any other way, Dax, I would. But as it stands, there is no other. He's taking twenty men down with him to better the fort's defences."

"So it's us, twenty Romans and a sack of wine?" Gawain asked brutally. Arthur frowned disapprovingly.

"Yes, Gawain."

Nothing more was said, but as we left, Venetia sighed deeply, an expression on her face that spoke of needing to talk to someone. I needed to talk to someone.

* * *

"Arlana?" I called into the stable. Hearing nothing, I turned to leave. A small noise stopped me. Turning back, I crept into the stables, looking around. Arlana was hugging Gawain tightly, crying softly. Embarrassed at having caught my friends in such a private moment, I turned to leave again, but not before I heard Arlana whisper, "Please come back to me brother, I don't know what I'll do if you don't." 

"_Han." _I whispered, horrified. I hadn't thought about my brother. Slipping from the stables by a small side door, I shut it quietly and without turning around, stepped back. Into something very solid.

"There you are." My insides squirmed uncomfortably. Finn.

"Here I am." I murmured back, keeping my back to him. Wrapping his arms around my torso, he leant his head into the back of my neck; I could feel him stooping down to me. Gently, he shifted my hair with his nose, kissing the exposed skin gently.

For a moment, I considered leaving off telling him, but, as I sighed, reality came crashing back down around me.

"Let me go, Finn." I said softly, lifting my arms to his to push him off. "I'm not doing this anymore." Instead, Finn's arms tightened. "What?" He whispered.

"Get off. I said I'm not doing this anymore." My voice was stronger now, and held a hint of warning. He spun me around, gripping my shoulders and gazing down with a hurt, sad expression. It was a slap in the face. I'd almost rather he screamed and shouted than looked so sad.

"He's done it, hasn't he?" Finn asked gently, not releasing me; I shrugged him off.

"If you mean Tristan, no, he has not convinced me to stay with him."

"But you will."

I frowned.

"What?"

"You're going to Viroconium for three months with him." Eyes soft and sad, green pools of emotion, I felt my own eyes filling. "It's not like that. I won't be someone's whore."

"I've never thought you a whore, Dax."

"Did you ever think me yours?" I bit back, temper rising slightly. "I seem to remember you didn't mind seeing to the bar wench." I flushed as I realised how bitter I sounded. Finn growled slightly in frustration, running a hand through his mucky blonde curls.

"I didn't…I don't know why I did it." He said finally.

"I do." I said softly, looking at the ground. "You like to mess around with women, Finn. Everyone knows it. I'm just sad that you messed around with me. I just want someone who'll love me forever." He didn't say anything, so I stepped around him and made to walk away. Finn wrenched me back so fast I yelped in surprise, almost crashing into the stable side door, before I was seized and his lips were on mine. It was though I'd been struck by lightning. A rush of blood to my head, and he pulled away. "It was never a game with you Dax. Please believe me when I say that." Finn murmured, forehead touching mine. "I can't stop you if you want this to end, but please, don't think I messed around with you. Never a game with you."

"You swear?" I whispered, mouth trembling.

"Never with you." Finn turned and walked away, and I wondered just when my life had gotten so incredibly romantically confusing.

"Dax?"

I looked up, exhausted.

Finn smiled sadly, softly. "I'd love you forever."

As my mouth dropped, he walked away.

More tears fell, dropping gently to the sandy ground of the courtyard as quickly as I wiped them away.

* * *

The room was in a state of disarray. Han's room, to be frank, smelled of sweat, men and something indefinable that I thought might be stale bread. I sat with my brother on the bed, not touching, staring at the mess around me. I thought Venetia and I were bad. 

I voiced this thought. Han chuckled dryly.

"You're leaving me for three months and all you can think about is that my room is worse than yours?" His voice, though he tried to make it humorous, fell far short of the mark. Slowly, he slid an arm around my shoulders, pulling me to his side, resting his chin on my head. "Stay safe for me, Little Fire." He muttered, "I want you to come home."

"Home, Han, is very far away." I whispered wryly. I could feel him looking at me, and I explained; "Home is where the heart is, and my heart remains in Sarmatia. It could never be here."

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Adair, who shared a room with my brother, ran in.

"Dax!" He panted, "Come quick!...It's Dock."

* * *

Aaaaaaand I'll leave it there. Please review. I'm horribly sunburnt and my feet are bandaged. Make me smile! (not that I'm guilt tripping you…not at all…) 

**Reviewers**

**Lovebuggy; **So how evil am I now? Ahahaha! However, I did write, so I don't get shalacked, do I?

**Op; **'Lo again! Thanks, and I hope this update was fast enough.

**June Birdie; **You're right, she does have to chose, but will she chose at all, or go along another path? It's all on the mix! It didn't sound harsh at all, so hakuna matata! Here you go!

**LANCELOTTRISTANBABY; **You know now! Here you are!

**Ailis-70; **Oh I do love your reviews! Highlight of my day when I get one like that! I'm trying to show that while Dock is growing into a young man, he's only thirteen, and also, while someone like Galahad is fighting, Dock doesn't see these things, and so it upsets him more. He's still a bit childish!

Arthur, as I hope I conveyed in this chapter, is nervous about sending his knights away where he can't be with them and watch over them. It's like he's a mother hen. Or so I tried to put.

Not much of our Brooding Boy in this chapter, but I thought Dax might have enough to deal with after Finn, so I left the poor girl alone. And, no, he doesn't think she's a whore, but then, neither does Finn, so it's a tiebreaker.

And oh to kiss that man indeed!

I wanted Finn to show that he wasn't just the shallow womaniser in this chapter. I wanted his kind, loving side to be shown, hope I did that ok.

You weren't wrong! You have an uncanny knack for figuring things out! Lol!


	22. Stabbing

**Stabbing**

Wretched with tiredness, I paced like a caged lioness outside the infirmary. I'd sprinted to the sick rooms almost before Adair had time to explain.

Dagonet wouldn't let me in. I'd scratched and hit the giant uselessly. I didn't want to hurt Dag, but at the same time, frustration and fear for Dock had me wild.

The hour was late, and all I'd been told was that my Dock, my adopted little brother, had _collapsed_ unexpectedly in the stables. A sound echoed from behind the closed door. Anxious, I paused, listening hard. No more sounds. Growling, I flung myself at the wall, slamming my back against it and sliding down, brow furrowed, eyes narrowed.

Dock was not a sickly boy. Everyone knew that. So what had happened? Sighing, I brought a hand to my eyes, rubbing the tender bridge of my nose, resting my elbows on my drawn knees. The corridor was deserted. Arthur, Dock, Dagonet, Therin and Brenna were in the room, and I was out here. Alone, and fretting.

I know not how long I sat there, mulling things over in my mind. Possibilities, theories and worries. Hours seemed to pass, but I knew, to my consternation, it was probably only minutes.

A slight scuff brought my attention up immediately, my eyes spying Lancelot trudging up the corridor towards me. "Any news?" He asked tiredly, slumping beside me.

"None." I replied tersely. "None at all." The curly haired knight leant his head back against the wall, sighing. We sat in companiable silence, another rare moment like the one on the walltop before the First Battle.

"Arthur is panicked at the moment." I said suddenly. "Why?" Lancelot shifted uncomfortably, saying nothing. I smirked into the flickering torchlight.

"There's a lying in your silence, Lancelot."

"I know not of what you speak." He snapped, glaring at me. I was so resigned and tired at that moment, I chuckled. Taking a deep breath, I sighed, "Oh, Lancelot. You are a terrible liar. Now what's wrong with him? He was acting like an anxious mother today. It's worrying." Lancelot took a deep breath, holding it in for a long moment, before saying in a rush of breath, "You wont' say anything?"

"You have my word, Lancelot."

"It's Rowena."

I sat up a little, raising an eyebrow as I turned to look at him. "She alright?" I asked, concerned. "It's not Alessandro again, is it?"

"Oh, Alessandro is just fine. He'll be even finer when he has a sibling to play with."

For a moment, I merely stared.

Arthur. And Rowena. _Baby?_

"Well…"I muttered finally. "It's grand news, to be sure, but it doesn't explain the way Arthur's acting." Lancelot chuckled.

"It has everything to do with it, my sweet Daxera." I raised my eyebrow once again at the quirk of my name, but didn't mention it, merely gestured for him to continue. "Arthur sees yo-sees _us_ all," Lancelot flushed a little at his mistake, realising that he had been about to proclaim himself something other than one of us, "…as his responsibility."

"Yes, we're his to Command." I said stupidly, before I cottoned on. "Oh."

"'Oh', indeed. He's terrified for you all, and now he's found out about Rowena, he feels he has to look after her too, and he can't do both. He's still feeling guilty about…about.."

"About Cad?" I finished quietly. "But why was he so…so _sorry_?"

"He feels he's sending you to your deaths. If one of you dies, he'll feel like it's his fault. That_ he_ sent you to your death." I sighed, leaning my head on Lancelot's shoulder, exhausted.

"What if I don't fear death?" I asked, quietly. Lancelot shifted to lean his head on mine.

"Then you're a fool."

"Aye." I yawned, long and sleepily, closing my eyes for a moment. Before I knew it, I was asleep.

* * *

"Bless them. How long do you think they've been here?"

"Dax has been here all night. Those scratches were her."

"And Lance? Surely he hasn't been here all night too?"

"Maybe."

Groggy, I opened my eyes, confused as to why my face was leaning on something warm and moving. As the blur of sleep faded, I looked up to see an amused Arthur and Dagonet standing in the infirmary doorway, looking down at me. "Wha…?" I mumbled, reaching out a hand to push up and away, but my palm met warm, worn leather, comforting to the touch. Lancelot slept on, oblivious, one arm slung around my shoulders and his head still resting on mine. We must have fallen asleep. Gently pushing his arm off, I let Dagonet pull me to my feet, leaning a little on the gentle giant as I rubbed sleep from my eyes.

"Dock?" I asked blearily, blinking up at Arthur.

"He's alright. You can see him if you want." Nodding, I brushed past the pair to stagger into the infirmary, aching legs and back protesting from the night spent prowling, and ultimately sleeping, in the corridor. Thumping down into the chair by the bed, I looked down at him,

"He's so little." I murmured as Dagonet joined me, taking a seat on Dock's other side. Dock was indeed, very little. Pale, with large bags under his eyes, the small boy looked traumatised even in sleep. His sandy blonde hair lay askance, and I reached out to smooth it gently back. The bed seemed too large, the sheet too white, and the situation too strange.

"What happened?" I heard Lancelot ask from the doorway, leaning on the frame as he reached behind him to knuckle his lower back with a grimace.

"He was stabbed."

My head shot up as I snapped, "_What?_" Dagonet sighed, shaking his head, reaching down to pull the covers away. As Dock's torso was exposed, I saw nothing but clean white skin-until Dag drew the blanket down to the boy's hips. There, across his stomach, were thick, white bandages. Criss-crossing and overlapping, he was fairly swaddled in the stuff.

"How did this happen?" I growled, standing, aches and pains forgotten. Arthur moved forwards, his hands raised in a placatory manner.

"We're not sure…" He trailed, "Dock hasn't woken yet."

"When he wakes, _send for me_. I'll hunt the bastards down." I growled menacingly. Arthur looked as though he wanted to do it himself. "Arthur, I mean it. You will find who did this and _punish_ them." I said flatly, "He's a boy. A _healer_. This was a blatant attack on you." Arthur nodded, and I had the feeling I was stating the obvious.

"Don't worry, Daxera. I'll find them. And there will be a _reckoning_." He said softly, his eyes on Dock, and I caught in the tone a trace of the old Arthur, the one who led us screaming into battle. The man I knew.

"You should pack. You're leaving tomorrow."

Damn. I'd forgotten.

"Aye…" I muttered, heading off to my room, past Lancelot, who I winked at as I passed, despite my bad temper.

* * *

Venetia's eyes were red when I came in. Hurriedly, she began to pack again, and I didn't press the matter. Hauling up my saddlebags from a large chest in the corner, I began to pack the few belongings I had into them, only taking a few clothes and lots of weaponry. I glanced at my attire. Breeches and a shirt.

Grabbing a few items, I strolled behind the changing partition and began to strip, pulling on the other clothes. Baggy black breeches made from a sort of sailcloth, a canvas like material, a tough material I'd bought from mercenaries who were passing through to the Wall, although heavy, they were warm and had many pockets ideal for small weapons and handy items. Heavy boots, standard issue, warm, lined with lambs wool. Shirt; black long sleeved tunic; kidney belt; dark leather sleeveless jerkin. A last touch; my prized scarf. Again, bought from mercenaries, exchanged for a knife. It was deep red, and contrasted to my mainly black attire. Wide, around the width from my inside elbow to my fingertips, it wrapped warmly around my neck, a silky material that was smooth and inviting against the skin. I loved that scarf. It was both warm and beautiful, the rich colour reminding me of a dress mother used to wear. Stepping out again, I flicked my hair out of my collar, checking I had ties to tame it back should I need to. I'd wear this for today and tomorrow, I would be comfortable. Venetia hadn't said a word, and I wondered briefly what was wrong.

"Ven?" I asked quietly. She looked up, wary. "If you need to talk, I'll listen." I told her. Leaving everything on the bed, I picked up my sword and strapped it to my back. I felt like a practice.

* * *

Leaving the room, I wandered to the courtyards, mulling over what had happened to Dock. The practice dummies proved poor against my fury, all my anger rolling out into one, foul, lethal attack. I knew in a battle sheer fury would not save me, but it felt good to let out once in a while.

Chest heaving, I strode to a rain barrel and splashed my face, grateful for the cool water.

"...shoulda heard 'im squeal!"

I paused, head tilted slightly.

"You slashed him?" Asked another voice.

"Aye, Arthur's healer brat. Can't lift a sword, _weaklin'._" My eyes flashed, and the grip on my sabre tightened until it was almost painful. Raucous laughter could be heard, and I poked my head around the wall into the next practice yard. Three Roman soldiers stood there, cackling and guffawing. Their countenance was, quite blatantly, stupid. Fat, balding and smelly, these men had stabbed Dock. Fury turned my gaze red. Flinging down the rag I'd used to wipe sweat from my neck, I stepped out from around the partition wall, a grim, feral smile on my lips.

* * *

Phew. I wrote this on a mad spree. I just had the urge to write! Please review!

**Reviewers**

**Op; **I updated in the same day! I know, I know, it's not got either of my lovely boys in, but as I said, mad spree! Hope you enjoyed.

**Lovebuggy; **Please don't shalack me, I updated in the same day! Or, rather, at 1am British time! The things I do for you lot! Please may I have shalack?

**Ailis-70; **Yeah, sunburn and feet from practice, but it was good fun all the same! Glad you liked the messy rooms, I thought it would be sort of, you know, youngsters who fight, don't really have a lot of time to clean, ect..

Arthur's mood explained! Ahah! Betcha didn't see that one coming!

Ah, the lovely Finn. It's a bit silly when you make a character and then want him in life! Aerrgh… such is my luck!

I'd like to explore his character a little, so who knows what might happen!

And Dock, my poor boy! I felt so horrid doing that to him, but I don't know, it seemed to fit somehow..

Anyhoo, hope you enjoyed.


	23. Wreckoning

Wreckoning

"Oho! Look here lads! Got ourselves a lioness!" Jeered one of the men, sneering. I smiled happily; Arthur wasn't here, hardly anyone was about. Who would know? Still, I did not lunge. Running through my options quickly, I discovered they were unsatisfactory. I could either kill them, and face trial, for Arthur would surely know it was I; I could walk away, leaving the men with small injuries to teach them a lesson, but I would still be furious and would probably face trial for assault; or I could just leave and go to Arthur, telling him where the brutes were, leaving me with no revenge for Dock.

One of the men suddenly lunged, spittle flying from his fat lips as he thrust his sword forwards clumsily. Smirking slightly, I swung my sabre into the base of the blade, near the hilt, jarring it horribly from his hands as the shock made him release the blade. Whipping my blade back around, I held it to his throat.

"Careless." I murmured offhandedly as he quivered.

His companions drew their own weapons, advancing. Taking my blade from the mans neck, I readied myself; it looked like my decision was out of my hands.

"Ahh!" Lunging, the heaviest flew at me with speed that belied his girth, swinging down in a vicious chop; dodging carefully, I stepped out of the way of the second man, as he thrust to where he thought I would step back. The big man, who I swiftly decided to call Porky, glared. The third scrabbled in the dust for his sword, snarling as he emerged upright. For a moment, there was silence, and I pondered gleefully whether I would be able to pass this off as their fault, that they started this. They circled me jeering. I laughed quietly as one stabbed forwards; I whipped around and met his sword, straining slightly as his strength outweighed mine. Darting from underneath, I let his fall forwards, kicking his rear as hard as I could as he crashed to the dirt. A sudden, dirty hand clamped over my mouth, and a large, hairy arm seized my arms to my sides. "Got you, girly." Hissed Porky, squeezing me so hard the breath rushed from my lungs and my sword clattered from numb arms. Furious with myself for letting him sneak up behind me, I struggled for a moment. Thinking as fast as my oxygen-starved brain would allow, I lifted a leg and kicked backwards, hearing a crack as it connected with Porky's shin. Howling, he let me go, and I turned my face in time to receive a sharp blow to the cheek with a solid fist. I could feel my neck pull as my head jerked in the force of the punch.

"Son of a _bitch_." I muttered, ducking under another forearm to swivel about and plant a hard thrust with the base of my palm on Porky's nose, breaking it with a sharp crack. The other two men leapt at me, grabbing limbs and pulling me taut. Porky snarled, kicking my sword away in the dust. Idly, I wondered how long it would take to clean the blade after I'd gotten away.

The first blow was staggering. My legs crumpled as I wheezed for air.

The second was…numbing, my head snapping back as I was punched in the same place as before, the dull ache becoming a sharp pain.

It went on, Porky slamming his fists into me, my heartbeat clamouring and the grunts of pain loud to my own ears.

Suddenly, mercifully, it stopped. Raising my head, eyes dazed, I saw a familiar sword pointing at Porky's neck; Excalibur.

* * *

"I can't _believe_ you did that!" Han roared, running his hands through his hair furiously, pacing the same path in the infirmary floor; the same path he'd been walking for a whole half hour now. "How _stupid_ do you have to _be_, Daxera? You could have _died_!" I remained silent, ignoring him, instead watching Therin and Brenna binding my torso tightly, the bruising to my ribs aching with a fierce fire. Han continued to shout, and I continued to remain silent, calm. Dock lay in the next bed, unmoving aside from his breathing, which I turned my attentions to after tiring of the bandaging. He was still so pale, but did not look as near death as he had before. I smiled softly as I thought about him, his mischievous ways, and his ability to make me grin. "Are you even listening to me?" Han yelled, stopping his pacing, looking murderous. A soft knock at the door heralded Galian, who nodded gravely at me before taking a seat at the other end of the room, holding a swelled wrist. After I was allowed to gently tug my clothing back on, I stood, thanking Brenna and Therin, hugging the latter. Sighing deeply, I turned and faced the whirlwind of rage that was my beloved brother.

"Han."

He paused mid rant, I'd spoken so quietly, I didn't think he'd have heard me, but, nonetheless, he had. "Stop this shouting. I have a headache, I'm sore, and I'm alive. Be grateful for that. What's done is done and can't be changed." I murmured quietly, facing him down. He flared up indignantly, about to make another speech, when I raised my hand to stop him.

"No, I don't want to hear it. I understand you're worried, but I don't want another lecture. Arthur did well of that." Han gaped soundlessly at me, gazing stupidly as I kissed him gently on the cheek and left the infirmary, closing the door behind me with a small click, letting out a hidden breath as I did so.

Leaning against the wall for a moment, I held a hand protectively to my ribs, glad it was only bruising and not broken bones that fuelled my discomfort. I set off to my rooms at a steady pace, thinking about how I could clean my sword of dust, and then maybe sleep a little while until the dinner bell chimed.

* * *

Venetia wasn't there, as usual, but someone else was. Arlana and Finn both leapt up as I entered, looking anxious. I stared at Finn before remembering my manners and greeting the pair. Arlana explained quickly that she was worried, and that should Jols be left to the stables all afternoon, the place would be in uproar. After a gentle hug, and brief reprimanding words she departed, and I was left alone with Finn.

"I was worried." I nodded, crossing to my washbowl to refresh my face, which sported a lovely blackening bruise. "I came to see if you were alright."

"I gathered." I said tersely as I pressed the cold cloth to my forehead.

"I'm fine." I continued after a moment, wincing at how laboured my breath was. Finn snorted behind me, and I could tell he would be rolling his eyes.

"You're not fine, Dax. You could have-"

"Died! I know! Everyone has been telling me so. I don't want to …" I clutched the rim of the bowl, breathing hard, "I don't want to hear any-any more." Finn approached carefully, gripping my shoulders firmly and guiding me to lie on my bed, stroking the loose tendrils of hair back from my face as I sighed.

"Don't ever do that to me again." He said eventually, his bright green eyes dark with emotion. "I know I've made a mess of us, but I wasn't sure. I didn't want to scare you… or I didn't know whether you were ready or…whether you…whether you preferred him." I didn't need to ask to know who 'He' was. "I was so scared when Arthur brought you past our training yard."

"He took me past the training yard where you were?" I asked weakly, closing my eyes in shame. I'd fainted when the soldiers had dropped me in the dirt, and awoken in the infirmary. Therin and Brenna were halfway through bandaging me when Han had arrived. I licked my lips nervously. "Who was in the yard?"

"Everyone." He murmured softly, fingers tenderly stroking my hair, I didn't have the energy to swat his hand away. My shame coursed through me, and I thought about how weak the others must think I was. "Finn…" I whispered, trying to stop ashamed tears from escaping from behind my closed lids, "I want to be alone." Exhaustion and shame rattled through me like a runaway cart. The toll and shock of the day was finally wearing on my nerves, and I knew I could have a spectacular crying session-if only Finn would leave. I felt Finn's lips on mine, soft and gently probing until I kissed him back, feeling tears slipping from my eyes. "Please?" I mumbled against his mouth, trying to press my hands against his tunic to push him off. Breathing heavily, he sat up, wiping my tears away with gentle, calloused fingers. Smiling softly, he bent down again and placed a light kiss on the tip of my nose, rising from my bed as he withdrew. I closed my eyes again, feeling hopeless as he opened my door. "Dax?"

"Mnn?"

"I love you." Finn's voice was full of emotion and honesty. I felt ill. I was undeserving of such friends. The door closed with a gentle click, a click loud enough to muffle my sob as I let myself cry for my own stupidity for the first time in a long while.

* * *

Seated on my horse the following morning, I grimaced; this was going to be the longest ride of my life. Venetia and Gawain flanked me, both looking grim, horses with saddlebags bulging with possessions that they could not leave behind. Everyone gathered around us, giving us good luck tidings and advice on how to deal with Romans. Han had visited my room late last night, reddened eyes speaking of strong family bonds that would never break. He wasn't among the others in the cold morning light. Tristan emerged from the stables, holding his destrier's reigns loosely in one hand; I pointedly didn't look at him.

Finn's eyes haunted me, searching for some sort of sign that all was alright between us. I couldn't look at him. I felt so horrible. Why had I been so blind? I tightened my grip on the reigns.

Arthur smiled at me, tired and wan looking, Rowena on his arm looking the picture of health. 'Must be the baby.' I thought, stealing a glance at Lancelot, who winked.

"S'everyone ready?" Venetia asked in a gruff voice, looking at Dagonet, who was walking away from us with a slump in his shoulders. I knew that they were courting, but I didn't know to what extent. I hope it would be alright. I nodded, hearing Tristan's and Gawain's chorus of "Aye."

"Stay safe!" Was called out by numerous people as we rode out alone, due to meet our travelling companions a little further on. I didn't look back, though I very much wanted to. My ribs ached as I rode, my eyes stinging.

"Knights!" Halting, we looked back, seeing our friends, our family gathered at the gates, some hugging one another, others standing alone.

The battle cry roared out into the skies, disturbing birds in the nearby trees, sending them soaring into the blue skies, flying away to less noisy roots; our own drawn blades saluted them, as our screams added to the noise. I yelled.

I yelled for my home, I yelled for those I love, I yelled for my soul. Riding away down the road, flanked by Gawain and Venetia, I wondered what fate had in store, and prayed to no one in particular that I would live to see my brother again.

* * *

Please review-I know it's short, but I haven't had much time lately, sorry.

_**Reviewers;**_

**Cardeia; **Ahh. Both major whoopass and punishment here for Dax, in one form or another in any case. Her punishment of hearing Finn's confession is what I had in mind!

I'm glad you liked Rowena's surprise! I was waiting to see what sort of reaction that would yield! I'm glad you liked the saddlebags bit, it reflected her life-more weaponry than frivolity, and I tried to show that. Thanks for your review!

**Op; **Made you wait a bit longer for this one! Sorry!

**Lovebuggy; **Yay! Shalack for me! I'll bring Tris in again soon, I promise!


	24. Away From Home

_**character death, sorry folks.**_

_**Away From Home**_

I learned quickly to keep my head down in Viroconium. As far as we could gather, Venetia, Gawain, Tristan and I were the only Pagans in the budding city. It didn't make for good conversation. I made few friends, those who would talk to any of us were slightly off the wall, and so we were frowned upon even more. We were under the command of a high ranking Roman official, who we'd never met. We communicated through scrolls and word of mouth. His idea of defending his area was to kill all who resisted. Gawain pointed out that four people against hundreds was not exactly equal. He was whipped.

I mentally questioned the point of sending four knights to an area that obviously needed more attention than a few young people, being sent out day after day was exhausting; killing, returning to the barracks, eating in someone's room and sleeping, returning to our horses the next day to ride out again. The endless routine was pointless; however many men we killed, more appeared to take his place. Tristan and I had reached some sort of truce; we couldn't fight as well divided, so we were amicable, and once in a while, friendly. Occasionally, however, I'd see him watching me from the shadows, eyes protective, fierce. I know he was responsible for the death of the Roman swine who tried to pull me into a deserted alleyway one night. Such was the life of the budding city.

One evening, six weeks after our arrival, halfway though our stay, we were gathered in Tristan's room, talking about the day's attack;

"It was too close, they've got our techniques figured." Gawain warned, taking a deep sip of hot calda, a new luxury from Rome.

"We can't be sure that the next time, it won't get one of us killed," I agreed, picking up my own steaming cup as I shuffled closer to the fire, trying to get away from the chill seeping through the heavily draped window. Venetia frowned, looking into the fire as Tristan sat on his bed, drawing his blade and lovingly tending to it with a whetstone. I watched the light from his blade dance on the walls, eerie in the late hour.

"Perhaps we should test it one more time, just to make sure." Venetia said finally, looking up. "We can't be sure it's just their luck."

"I agree." Grunted Tristan, re-sheathing his sword, and so removing the dancing lights on the walls. I sighed worriedly, looking to Gawain. The blonde knight chewed his lip thoughtfully before nodding dejectedly. "We have to be careful though," He cautioned. "Remember what Arthur said when we left. We have to watch each others backs." I shifted as I heard a soft chuckle from outside, and looked around. The light that slid under the door from the torches outside was marred by two blots. Someone was listening in. "Keep talking." I murmured to Gawain, pointing at the door. He nodded, mentioning that our riding out was getting to concentrated. I didn't listen, sliding fluidly to my feet and stalking over to the door, pressing my ear to the join. Someone was shifting about, listening in. Growling, I flung the door open and grabbed the person by their shirt collar, yanking them in. With their yell and Gawain's shout of laughter, I swiftly let go, exclaiming, "Arthur!"

* * *

Our Commander straightened himself up, blushing furiously. Gawain and Venetia were laughing, Tristan smirking. I flamed red in embarrassment, explaining, "We've never been welcome here, Arthur. I didn't know who you were." He waved it off, finally smiling in good humor. Sitting himself down next to Tristan who clapped him on the back with a true smile. 

"How are you all?" He asked warmly, nodding in thanks as Venetia handed him a cup of calda. "No more…heroics?" He shot me a sharp look, and I flushed slightly, but lifted my chin defiantly; I hadn't forgotten what he did while I was unconscious. "As well as we can be here." Gawain answered honestly, no hint of malice in his tone. Arthur shifted slightly, frowning.

"Arthur, don't tell us otherwise," Venetia said suddenly, "You don't know what it's like, being treated like you don't exist but to kill." He nodded gravely, looking sympathetic.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Asked Tristan, standing to grab another log for the fire. Arthur's face fell, as though he was remembering something horrible.

"I'm discussing The Wall with Aurelius. The wall fort he left has become weakened in his absence. It's a worry." Arthur admitted. He bit his lip, adding quietly; "I came with news." The tone of his voice had the smiles on our faces vanish as suddenly as it rained here.

"What news?" Venetia asked in a strangled voice. "Is everyone alright?"

His silence was the most terrifying thing I'd heard in a long while.

"Who is it? What happened?" Gawain demanded, sounding panicked. Arthur sighed.

"Melva was felled last week, Adair is gravely ill, as is Galian." My stomach convulsed. Galian, sick? Adair?

_Melva?_

"Melva was a sweet girl." Venetia whispered, looking ill. "Never malicious. She hated fighting."

"I know." Arthur said heavily. "Rowena won't speak to me for not letting her fight. She thinks she could have saved her."

"She wasn't fighting? Why?" Gawain asked curiously. My eyes widened. I'd forgotten Arthur hadn't told anyone. Apparently, so had Arthur. His face went crimson, his own eyes widening.

"I-I-she…"

"She's not well. She told me before I left that she was being ill in the mornings." I threw in off the mark. Arthur looked gratefully at me, confusion in his eyes. It was close enough to the truth without having been a lie.

"She's still sick?" Venetia asked incredulously. I gave her a look.

"How are Adair and Galian?" I asked, changing the subject.

"As far as we can gather, they're going to be alright, but it could go either way. Adair is fevered and Galian lost a lot of blood, neither has woken yet. Though, for all I know, they may have woken in the three days it took to get down here." Arthur explained, looking grim.

"What happened?" Gawain asked quietly.

Arthur looked thoughtful.

"We aren't sure whether it was a calculated attack or whether there really were reports of Saxons, but just before we reached a village where there had supposedly been Saxon attacks, we were attacked by Woads."

We were all silent, thinking this over. Tristan swore quietly, asking,

"Who was scouting?"

"Hafgan," Arthur replied, sighing, "But he couldn't have known-he was well away from us when it happened. Chance that he'd gone the other way." Tristan rolled his eyes, something that made me start; he _never_ rolled his eyes.

"We should get some sleep." Gawain said suddenly, looking into the flames. The firelight flickered over his features, and a man emerged. Not a young man, fresh out of boyhood, but a man with authority and judgments in his gaze. I'd never felt as warm towards him as I did at that moment. Arthur nodded, standing. Venetia, Gawain and I also rose, as Tristan began clearing away the bowls and cups from our meager meal.

"I may not see you again, Knights. Stay safe." Arthur said softly, placing a bracing hand on each of our shoulders, smiling fiercely, proudly. I smiled back; our Arthur had returned. We went our separate ways, though it would be many hours into the dawn before I could sleep, my thoughts haunted by thoughts of my friends lying ill at Vindolanda.

* * *

"Dax? You up?" Tristan called through my door, tapping sharply. I wrapped my red scarf around my neck securely, calling back, "Aye!" 

"We're riding out in ten minutes, hurry yourself, woman!" Gawain's voice called jokingly, adding, "Women! Always late!"

"Men! Couldn't survive without us!" I yelled back, almost falling over as I tugged my boots on. Gawain barked with laughter, his voice receding as he and Tristan walked away down the corridor. Slinging my saber onto my back, I relished it's comfortable weight over my shoulders. Sliding fingerless leather gloves onto my stiff, cold fingers, I wriggled the digits to try and warm them.

"Dax?" A soft knock at the door heralded Venetia's arrival, and so, checking my daggers and saber were secure, I grabbed my quiver and bow from the corner of the room, swinging the door open.

"How are you?" I asked her as we walked down to the stables together. Venetia didn't reply straight away. I looked up at her, straining slightly as I only reached her shoulders; she was very tall, and I wasn't exactly average height.

"I miss Dag." She said softly, wiping her eyes slightly. I placed a hand on her arm gently, wondering whether anyone missed me. Finn's face appeared in my mind, but I swiftly locked him away to the place in my head to which I never went. Save in my dreams.

"He'll be missing you too, Ven." I consoled, letting go of her as we emerged out into the cold air. "More than you'll guess."

Half an hour later, and the talk had stopped. We were still together, but wary. Silence pulled in on all sides, the stillness of the air threatening in a way that a war cry could never be.

"You sure we should do this?" I asked Venetia, worriedly. She nodded, looking to Tristan. He shrugged and looked away.

"We can all fight for ourselves, Dax. If the Rebels have guessed our strategy, we'll just have to run for it." I glared at Gawain for the input; he'd been on my side last night.

"Fine." I said angrily, checking my saber was loose in the sheath. "But be careful."

"Split?" Venetia asked, looking at each of us in turn.

"Split." I said firmly, taking my all too familiar path into the forest, not looking back.

* * *

Stealthy now, I'd left my horse behind, near a stream. I moved better on foot. Sliding through the trees, I kept hidden, watching for any tell-tale movement. Sighing quietly, I knelt down next to a small stream, trying to judge whether it was safe to drink from it. Taking my chance, I slid my glove off and dipped my palm into the clear water, about to raise it to my mouth when a sudden noise made me look up. 

Straining my ears, I listened.

There.

Fear grabbed my gut, and I sprang up, running as fast as I could back to my horse, pulling my glove on as I ran. Practically flinging myself onto the beast's back, I galloped full pelt towards the sound of Venetia's screams.

* * *

Aaand I'll leave it there. I've had really bad writers block, which is why it's been so long to an update. Consequently, I don't really like this chapter. Please tell me what you think. 

Reviewers.

Op; Hehe, thanks for the review, sorry it's been so long. Writers block..

Ailis-70; I was beginning to think you'd abandoned me! Lol, Glad you had fun in D.C! Sounds like a good time! Yesh! Rowena, I was _rather_ chuffed with that one! And Finn, though I realized when I re-read it that perhaps he sounded a bit desperate, though his character is changing, as he's realizing that he might actually love this girl! And when he realizes he does? Fireworks!

I know Dax had her ass kicked, but I thought it was time for her courage to make an appearance; she's been weeping a lot lately.

Go Han! That bit was inspired by my best friend..

Here you go then ! Please help! Such bad writers block, it was horrible….

Cardeia; Whoo! Hope you had a good time at the Spa! Lucky thing. Yeah, her punishment is more in the way that Arthur let everyone see how bad she came off, and how foolish it was, rather than the shouting policy, which, with most young people, myself included, just goes in one ear and out of the other, which is why I wrote it like that. I'd be far more bothered about being embarrassed than being yelled at.

I felt for Han when I was writing this, but that bit was inspired by a friends reaction once, so it was all of that in one, really.

Finn...aah, my poor boy. He's realized how much Dax means to him, and it's scary. Losing her is like losing a part of himself, and it's hard. Men don't take to it well. Finn's passions mean that yes, he loves with his whole heart, he fights with his whole heart. To him, his cause is just, and he does everything with purpose.

I noticed the reigns thing! Honest! My computer autocorrects things that don't need correcting, and I spotted it when I was looking at the chapter to start another, how annoyed was i? Hope you liked, like I said, writers block! Feedback welcome !

Lovebuggy; More cliffhangers! I still get shalack though, right?


	25. Surrender

I'm sorry. C.D. Violence, and a little bit of romance.

* * *

_**Surrender**_

Rend's hooves thundered in a mad dance with my heart as the screams grew louder. Flying through the trees, I strove to keep a civil mind, holding on to my reason as a screech of pain filled my ears. Flashes of colour passed my eyes, heading towards the yells.

Rend flew into a clearing, and I pulled on the reins, shocked. Venetia was fighting, screaming.

'_Dying.' _Violently, I shoved the thought away. Venetia was not going to die. Drawing my swords, I prepared to slide from my saddle.

An arrow lodged itself in her chest, crashing her to her knees, a croak gurgling through her blood filled mouth. Swinging violently, she slashed the chest of a man, spraying blood onto her already coated face. Throwing myself from the saddle, I threw myself into the fray, hacking, slashing, chopping, stabbing, movements becoming familiar in their actions; day in, day out. This was my life.

Hate for the Romans filled me, eliciting a howl of rage from my mouth. Finally, after backhanding a man with my spiked gauntlets, I stood over Venetia, who lay motionless, snarling a challenge to all who came near. She was unconscious. She had to be. Dag was waiting for her.

One man swung his sword into a half moon, meeting my own blade halfway. Furious, I lashed out with a foot, hitting his stomach with a thud. As he doubled over, I swung my sabre around and under, cleaving his face in half. Flicking the blade around, I raised my arm to shield off a descending axe. Feeling the crack in my arm as it fell, I knew that my arm was broken. Cradling it to my chest, I grunted in pain, gutting my opponent. Breath came in harsh asps, and a cry of pain splintered from my mouth as a dagger raked my side. My daggers were taken from me as a man punched my gut, doubling me over with no breath. A man grabbed my arms, and I yelled, kicking out backwards as hard as I could, my broken arm screaming in flaring agony. I realised I was far outnumbered; I was going to die. As a club smashed into my skull, and all began to dim, I saw a flash of blonde, a glimpse of pale cheeks and arrowheads. As the blackness claimed me, I hoped Gawain and Tristan would survive.

* * *

Pain. Intense, horrifying pain.

_Running, I shot to my Father, shrieking with laughter as Han chased me around him…flames…faces…_

Arm. Aching, a dull crack, a moan of agony. My own voice.

"_The Romans are coming." _

Warm brown eyes, worried, desperate.

_I whimpered as the needle pierced my skin, the thread pulling painfully. "Stop that. You were the one climbing trees, Daxera. You have to take the rap when you fall." _

"Please don't." My voice whispered. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" A new voice. I knew the voice. Who was the voice?

"I-…I don't know."

_Blackness. "Mama? Papa? Why am I in the dark?"_

_In the dark. _

* * *

Slumber was stolen from me in the hash morning light. Trying to raise my arm to shield my eyes, I found I couldn't move it. It ached fiercely, and I groaned harshly as the pain in my abdomen worsened. I knew what this heralded. It was a familiar pain. Sighing, I lifted my head a little, trying to find out why my arm wouldn't move.

Bandaged swathed my torso and arm, my arm having become one with my chest under the wrappings.

"You're awake!" Gawain flew into the room from the open door, skidding to his knees beside me, seizing my head and kissing my forehead hard. "I thought you'd die too." He mumbled, pulling me into a gentle hug. I stiffened.

"What do you mean, 'too'?" I asked weakly, my heart screaming. Gawain pulled away slightly, tears brimming in his eyes. "Venetia's d-…"

"No!" I cried. I'd fought! I'd saved her! She couldn't be dead! Bile rose in my throat. "You're lying. Get out." I snarled. Gawain looked shocked.

"Dax-."

"Get out!" I choked, sitting up roughly, feeling stitches pulling on my side. Gawain frowned and tried to put a hand on my shoulder. I smacked his hand away with my good one. "_Get out!"_ I screamed, tears streaming down my face. He scurried from the room, shutting the door behind him. I flung myself out of the bed, crying out. Grabbing a wooden chair with my able arm, I used the force of my body to swing it into the door forcefully. I knew it was true. Somewhere, deep down, I knew she was dead. The rest of me didn't want to know.

"I hate you!" I screamed at myself in the small looking glass in my room, "You useless, _pathetic_ girl!" Toppling the small table near my window, I yelled my frustration. I felt so…so…lost.

My door slammed open and shut again, and I spun around to scream at the intruder. Tristan's eyes met mine, and I flung myself at him, pushing him hard to get him to leave.

"Get out, Tristan, leave me alone!" I whimpered, keeping my head down, shoving his chest to no effect. I struggled as his arms encircled me and pulled me against him. Slowly, surely, the fight left me, and I clung to the warm body before me, crying like a child.

"I t-t-t-tried to s-save her! I let h-her d-d-die." I stammered, choking on my tears. He said nothing, stroking my hair soothingly, resting his chin on my head. Tears fell from my eyes, blurring my vision. It physically hurt. I was hurting so much, it was all my fault. Venetia died because I didn't save her.

Scooping me up, Tristan sat me on his lap on my cot, holding me. I know not how long I cried, but I cried myself out to sleep in his arms.

* * *

When I awoke, my room was as it had been before, aside from a new chair, but there was no Tristan. Stifling more tears, I hardened my face, turning to a block of ice. Pulling on a warm woolly shirt of Han's I'd snuck into my pack just before we left, I slid out of my room and headed for the battlements.

The battlements became my second home. For a whole five weeks, I had to stay in the fort to let my arm heal. I avoided Tristan and Gawain like the plague, for fear of their hatred for letting Venetia die. I knew they could see me as I watched them leave and return each day, feeling physically sick with worry until I saw their horses dust trail heralding their returns. I wanted to protect them, but the burial mound I visited almost every day was testimony to my station as a protector. Venetia's burial mound, as much as I despised it being here, was another haunt of mine. I talked to her for hours, apologising, occasionally letting a couple of tears fall, saying sorry for not attending her funeral. I felt ill at the thought of Dagonet. What was he going to do? His lover was…dead…and it was my fault. I'd rise off the ground after a long while, brushing muck and dirt from my knees, wincing as I realised yet another dress was going to have to be cleaned thoroughly; the washer women hated me for it.

In my fort confination, I was forced to wear a dress, a scooped neck with long sleeves that billowed out at the end and a small tie that came together under my bust. It fitted my form well, but it was white, a colour that I didn't particularly like. Eventually, I was allowed to remove the bandages, and my arm was free again, if not a little more sore than it had been before. Nights passed, and though I'd apologised to Gawain for screaming at him, I had no other contact with the two men. We were leaving for Vindolanda in a week. I'd have to return to my duties tomorrow.

I shivered, my white dress swirling around my legs. _'You're useless, Daxera._' I told myself, standing alone on the battlement. '_You're trained for this. What happened? You didn't try hard enough. That's what.'_

Growling in frustration, I leant against the wall, feeling the cold breeze shifting my curls from my face. When had it all gone so wrong? I wasn't content at home, but not this. Never this. I didn't want to see my friends die because of me.

"Dax?" The voice stirred my heart, my gut. A fluttering feeling along with the grief.

Closing my eyes, I said patiently, "Not at the moment, Tristan." He stood beside me now, and I could feel the burn of his gaze.

"What do you want?" I asked calmly, without malice. "I know it's my fault, if that's what you're here to tell me." I couldn't keep the bitterness from my voice. A sharp intake of breath took me by surprise, though my mask of ice did not slip. Hands sized my shoulders and twisted me; a hiss of pain escaped my clenched teeth as my arm throbbed. Looking up fiercely into his dark eyes, I couldn't help but feel a rush of…of something.

"Don't you _dare_ blame yourself!" The vehemence in his voice startled me, and I tried to step back; the grip on my arms wouldn't allow it.

"I-…"

"No. I won't hear it, Dax. Not now, not ever." I stilled, eyes glazing as I thought about these words. They didn't blame me? Confusion must have shown in my eyes, for the next moment, Tristan's hands dropped from my shoulders and horror was written all over his face.

"That's why you won't speak to us." He whispered, horrified. "You're ashamed. You think it's your fault." I flushed. Tristan never spoke like this, it was worrying me. I looked to the parapet stone, not knowing what else to do.

"You're insane." My head snapped back up, helplessness in my eyes. Gawain had arrived. His blue eyes flashed angrily in the dark, the torchlight below illuminating his features. "You thought we hated you?" He snorted, drawing up behind Tristan, being slightly taller.

"I'm sorry. I've been wallowing in self-pity…" I mumbled, looking anywhere but at my brothers in arms.

"No, you've been wallowing in guilt. Don't mistake the two." Gawain said firmly, anger fading slightly from his voice.

"Dax, it wasn't your fault. Remember what was said?" Tristan said softly, lifting my chin with a calloused finger.

"We suspected the Rebels had guessed our strategy. They just got to Venetia before we could draw them in. You fought like a demon… we saw you." Gawain finished. I felt hot tears brimming; I wiped them away harshly. It shouldn't have happened, regardless.

"I've been an idiot for not talking to you sooner." I said softly, looking up at them. Both faces shone with pain and regret. Together, we held one another. It was a strange experience, to be sure. Awkwardly, we broke apart, looking at one another. We descended the stairs silently, heading for our rooms.

* * *

Gawain bit us a good night and closed his door, leaving Tristan and I alone. I looked at him, giving him a quick, sad smile.

"Well, goodnight." I murmured, turning to go into my own room.

"Dax?" I turned around, heart pounding. Softly, lovingly, I was drawn to him. Bending his neck a little, Tristan pressed his mouth to mine softly.

In that moment, I was undone. All the pain of grief, the pain of thinking he and Gawain hated me tore through me, fuelling my fire, and I wound my fingers into his hair, opening my mouth to kiss him back. Pressing me back against my door, I relished in the feel of his body against mine. "Do you want me to stop?" He whispered as his fingers tugged at the tie of my dress. I shook my head, burying my face in his neck. "We should move this." He murmured, opening my door and tugging me inside. We gazed at each other, each waiting for the other to make the first move. The door closed behind us, and finally, I surrendered.

* * *

Dax's white dress..hmm. The one worn by Eowyn in The Houses Of Healing, LOTR 3 is what i had in mind.

Hmm, may have to write a separate chapter Rated M. If anyone wants this, review and tell me.

Ailis-70- Whoo….that was a had chapter to write…I didn't know whether Dax was being too "Oh woe is me" or not. I know! My poor Gawain. Ergh, eeeevil Romans. I thought I should pop Arthur in randomly, see what the response was.

I've put you out of your misery. Et voila!

Lovebuggy; How about the uber cool shalack, please!

Op- I'm really, really sorry about the character death thing, it's just, I need to move things about. I actually felt like I was going to cry when I wrote Venetia off. Here's the update, hope you don't hate me!


	26. Going Home

Going Home

The next week was spent in glorious happiness, more than I'd ever felt. I spent my nights with Tristan, my days with both Tristan and Gawain, though we hadn't told our blonde friend of our goings on, for fear that he would get uncomfortable around us both. It was only obvious then, that we should act normally around each other. Something that came surprisingly naturally.

I no longer felt completely responsible for the death of my friend and roommate, but it didn't stop the pangs of misery every time we rode near or past the graveyard. I thought dismally about our return to Hadrian's Wall. What would I say to Dagonet? What would everyone else think?

I voiced this question to Tristan one night as we lay sated in a small patch of moonlight. It was our last night at Viroconium; it brought feelings of both relief and dismay. Tristan played with a strand of my hair as he contemplated my question, leaning on one elbow as he lay on his side. I lay on my front, chin on my overlapped arms, shivering slightly in the cold.

"I don't know." He said finally, pulling the blankets up over my shoulders. "I know they won't blame you." He said sharply as I opened my mouth. "So don't think it."

"Don't get sharp with me, Tristan." I said warningly, "You'll regret it."

"Is that so?" His voice was dangerously quiet, but as I was flipped onto my back and thoroughly kissed, I relished in the fact that he would never hurt me. Tristan nipped my neck sharply, sending a shiver of brief pain through my skin. I grinned in a feral manner. Not intentionally.

The morning dawned clear and cold, the trees with their bare limbs shifting in the wind that had started up in the middle of the night. The buds were only just starting to show on the branches, heralding spring.

I leant against the place in the wall top I'd so oft visited, thinking about the past three months. It had been turbulent, to say the least. Venetia's death had deeply shocked both myself and Gawain and Tristan. I thought fondly of my lover, and how I'd left him sleeping that morning. My mind slid back to the memory of the first morning I'd woken in his arms.

_Warmth and reassuring solidity resided at my back, a strong arm wrapped around my waist and a pair of lips gently resting on the back of my neck. I squirmed slightly as warm breath tickled the hairs at the top of my neck, stirring them gently. Sighing, I closed my eyes, thinking carefully as to what I should do. Should I get up and leave? Should I wait for him to wake? What of Gawain? Would he do what poor Venetia did to me and barge in, yammering for me to rise? Carefully, so as not to wake him, I slid from under Tristan's arm and out of the bed, shivering as the cold floor met my bare feet. I rested a palm on the flatness of my belly, wondering with a small smile at the ache between my legs and the warmth of my stomach. For all it was worth, I hoped I was not with child. There would be too many questions and besides; I'd not make a good mother. Flicking my hair over my shoulders, I looked about quickly for my discarded dress, which, to my derision, lay in a crumpled pile on the floor. Turning my back on the sleeping Scout, I picked it up and dusted it off. Shimmying into it, I slid my arms into the sleeves and reached for the ties. A hand grasped my wrists, keeping them at the base of my spine while it's counterpart slid around my waist, pulling me back to a warm chest. _

"_Now then, my Kitten. Where do you think you're off to?" The deep rasp in my ear made my knees weak, as I let out a small whimper. _

_Soon, my dress was again abandoned on the floor, and moans echoed off the stone walls._

I started as the familiar voice murmured, "You left early this morning. I missed you."

I grinned, poking Tristan lightly in the side as his hands wandered dangerously low.

"None of that, you." I laughed, turning to face him, having to look up as my gaze met his neck. Tristan smiled back, and I basked in it. It was rare he smiled, and it lit his face with a light I wished to see there always.

"Kitten, I believe there's no one about." He whispered, tilting his head to one side, twitching his nose in amusement as I frowned.

"Why do you keep calling me 'Kitten'?" I asked, turning around again, leaning on his chest as his arms came around either side of me to rest on the wall top. His chuckle reverberated through my frame.

"You've seen the scratches you leave behind, Dax." I flushed, not replying as I remembered discovering the scratches on Tristan's shoulder blades, furrows made by my nails in heated nights. I turned around again, kissing his adams apple gently. I looked up into his dark gaze, smiling sadly.

"Aye, but the others might start wondering why you call me that." Tristan's eyes flickered.

"You're worried about the others finding out about us?" The smallest trace of hurt was discernable in his voice. I instantly felt regret flooding through me. I was a horrible person. Finn's face slid into my mind, and I knew my eyes filled with sadness.

"I'm just not sure I'm ready for everyone else to find out about us." I whispered, looking away. His rough fingers tilted my chin up until I was forced to meet his fierce eyes. "You mean you're not sure whether you're ready for Finn to find out about us?" I closed my eyes, thinking about what I could say to stop the pain in his voice.

"Tristran, I'm yours." Those three words seemed to freeze everything around us; I saw nothing but the man before me; dark, long lashed eyes, high, sculpted cheekbones and a bowed mouth. His hair hung slightly in his eyes, obscuring the tattoos I knew were there, his strong, stubbled jaw showing the beginnings of a beard. Standing slightly on my toes, I kissed his mouth, smiling as a single tear slipped from each of my eyes. "I'm yours. Not Finn's. I'm just worried about what he'll say."

"I know you're mine. I just…" Breaking off, he looked over my head at the landscape. "I don't want to have to hide this."

"And we wont." I assured him. "Just as soon as I can tell Finn myself. He..he told me…" I stammered, turning away again. Tristan leant his chin on my shoulder, wrapping his arms around my waist. "Told you what?"

"Before I left, he told me he loved me." Tristan tensed, burying his nose in my red scarf, grip tightening almost painfully.

"_I_ love you." He rasped, voice thick with something I could only assume was emotion. I sighed, leaning into his warm frame.

"I'd never questioned that, Tristan. I'd never questioned that."

* * *

Riding away from that place was one of the happiest days of my life, the thought of heading back to my friends and brother infusing me with an indestructible joy. Flanked by Gawain and Tristan, I pondered the changes when we got back. For all we knew, Galian and Adair had gone to the Gods, along with Melva. For a moment, my heart gave a painful squeeze, thinking how little time Melva had to live on this earth. I hoped desperately that everyone else was alright; we hadn't heard from our Commander since he'd left the day Venetia died. Another painful squeeze.

Dag. The poor man; how was I going to explain to him that I survived and Venetia was lying in some graveyard almost one hundred and fifty miles away? I was angered by the thought that she was not buried with the others we'd lost. Our small, unkempt graveyard was testimony to the fact that we hadn't been in many battles, but there was one of our knights who would never sleep with the others. A small, hopeful thought came to me; perhaps her soul would rest at the Wall, with us. It gave me comfort to think that Venetia was watching over everyone. .

Lost in thoughts, it took me a moment to realise something was amiss. Looking about, I realised Gawain was staring at me. "What?" I asked, looking confused.

"You and Tristan!" I lookede about for said man, but was rewarded with his fast vanishing back.

"He's gone Scouting."

Gawain continued to stare. I sighed. The ride back was looking forebodingly long.

* * *

Alrighty, this was a really, really hard chapter to write, as it's inbetween my Interlude. I wrote an M chapter, named Interlude To The Tithe'd Ones. Please review to tell me what yu think. As you can see, however, if you haven't read the M chapter, you haven't missed anything!

* * *

Reviewers;

**_Ailis-70;_** 'Lo! Thanks for all the support! Though I didn't know that I didn't have to change the rating!

I'm pleased that you liked the way I got Gawain and Tristan interacting with Dax again. I wasn't sure how to do that. And creepy co-inky-dinks!

**_Cardeia;_**Hey! Hope you had a good time at the Spa! Thanks for your support on the M chapter. I'm glad I got Dax's reactions right. I wasn't sure whether she should react by withdrawing into herself, or having a tantrum, so I did both.

It was an emotional chapter, and, if I'm being honest, I used some experience for it, so its sort of how I react when I'm deeply hurt or grieving. Not on the same level of throwing things though !

And your writing is not drivel, woman! I've read it!

**_Lovebuggy;_**Hehe! Thanks for the review.

**_Sarita04; _**I'm pleased you keep up with my story! Thanks for your support on the M chapter.

**_Op;_**Phew! Thanks goodness for that!


	27. Capture

WARNING; VIOLENCE AND RAPE.

* * *

_**Capture**_. 

Gawain was hunting; Tristan was Scouting, and I was on my own, currying my horse, watching over the packs and preparing the camp. Humming quietly to myself, I kept one ear cocked for anything out of the ordinary. We were only half a days ride from home, and though we stopped for the night, if we set off early in the morning, we would be home by midday.

Rend was flourishing under my brush, whickering softly as I smoothed his coat over. "Shush, you. I can't hear anything over your noise." I softly chastised, pausing for a moment to rub his nose. Rend pushed into my palm, quiet now. Finishing the chore, I sat on a rock under a tree, pulling out my saber and whetstone, lovingly caressing the blade to a parchment thin edge that I was confident could slice even tough leather. I thought about Gawain's reaction to Tristan and I. While he was accepting, I wasn't sure whether he thought we would last. One of the first things he'd said was "What about Finn?" I wasn't aware Finn had shared his idea of loving me with anyone. I smiled a little, re sheathing my sword and leaning back against the tree. Peering up into the bare branches, I looked to the skies, watching the clouds.

Snap.

I didn't give any indication that I'd heard the noise, but my senses were screaming. Someone was drawing close and trying to be stealthy about it. It had come from the other side of the camp; was someone going to try and sneak up on me from the front? Surely n-the sudden shifting of dirt behind me had me up and my sword out, pacing back into the middle of the clearing, looking around warily. My heart pounded, rushing the blood around my head; I had to calm down; I wouldn't perform as well as I could if I was panicked. An arrow whistled down and struck the dirt next to my foot. With a cry, eight men burst from the trees, wearing furs and wielding poorly made weapons. In shock, I realized what they were; Saxons. Coldly, I eyed them with malice, hoping to frighten them a little. Silently, I threw myself into battle, thrumming my sword through the air and into flesh, the skin no match for the newly honed blade of my forefathers. A dagger slid past me, and I whirled, trying to avoid it. I felt it rip my clothing, and I quickly thanked Andraste that it hadn't pierced me. Another man threw a club, and while I turned to avoid it hitting my chest, I felt it crash into my shoulder, making my entire arm numb; thankfully, it wasn't my sword arm. I ducked under another hopeful killer, sliding my sword along his gut, the thin red line suddenly becoming a mass of entrails and blood as he crashed to the dirt, trying to gather the loops of his gut in his bare hands. Where were Gawain and Tristan when you needed them?

Desperately now, I parried and thrust as much as I could, realising that for the second time of my life, I was hopelessly outnumbered. A spear butt slammed into my temple, and everything went black.

* * *

"UP!" The sharp bark sent waves of pain crashing through my skull. The kick to my ribs had my pained eyes snapping open as I gasped for breath. "I'm …I'm up…" I gasped, trying to draw a breath that didn't hurt. I tried to wrap my arms around my midsection, and realized I was in a very uncompromising position. My wrists were tied behind my back, my legs from my knees to my ankles bound tightly. I lay on my left side, arms aching, head pounding, and with a group of about eight Saxons. This did not bode well. Why wasn't I dead? 

"You Arthur's Knight?" One snapped, looming over me. I regarded him with what I hoped were indifferent eyes. "I might be-aah!" Another kick to the ribs; and something broke. Wheezing, I tried to roll onto my back, only succeeding in twisting my hands further and paining my whole side.

"She's one of 'em. The other two are lookin' for 'er. Pretty little fing, isn't she?" Snarled a new voice suddenly. I couldn't see behind me, and hissed as I was wrenched up by my hair. My side burned fiercely, my head pounding, unconsciousness only a few moments away. I closed my eyes, thinking they were going to slit my throat. A wet mouth slobbered over mine, and I struggled in outrage, getting weaker by the second. I was dropped back to the ground, landing on my front. Something else cracked in my chest as a boot was stuck under me.

"What do you want?" I hissed through the pain, gasping for breath. A boot smashed down on my back, pressing my ribs further into the hard ground; I couldn't prevent the whimper of pain escaping my mouth

"We want a ransom."

I was unceremoniously picked up and lifted before a burly, smelly man on a huge horse, and as we began to move, I felt his hands wandering. Squirming only got him more excited, so I had no choice but to remain still. Tears filled my eyes as the pain of my body reached new heights with the jolting of the horse. Determined not to show any weakness, I swallowed them back and raised my chin, belying the despair that I'd never see my brother, Tristan, or any of my friends again.

"Sodding bastard." I hissed as I crawled into the shelter of a tree, face throbbing from the new assault on me. My hands were free, but my legs were not. I pulled myself painfully, glaring daggers at the stinking, muddy, drooling man. "I hope you fall on your sword and castrate yourself."

"You insulting me, girl?" The Saxon snarled, reaching down and back handing me with such force I flew back, cracking my head off the cold ground. A cut on my arms bled sluggishly, another on my stomach slowly soaking into my shirt and jerkin. "Castration, huh? Well, might as well get our dues in before that, eh lads!" The other remaining six jeered and yelled as my insides went cold. Grabbing me, I was hauled to the centre of their camp, thrown into the dirt with a low moan and promptly flung onto my back, a foreign body crushing over me, pressurizing my ribs, making me cry out. Struggling, I fought against the man as my wrists were grabbed and yanked above my head, my shoulder screaming in agony as they were tied that way, pulled horribly up over my head. My legs were untied, but before I could kick out, the heavy Saxon had forced his way between them, pinning me to the floor, my slender frame fiercely aching under his bulk. The pain in my ribs reached new, agonizing heights, and so, I did the only thing I could think of; I screamed. Long, loud and as gut wrenchingly as I could. I screamed, and screamed. A filthy hand clamped over my mouth, stifling me; I almost choked on the backrush of air. Biting down, I felt a metallic liquid seep into my mouth; blood. The Saxon roared, snatching his hand away, and I cried out again, hoping someone would hear me. My rational side told me that there would be no one around; Gawain and Tristan would be looking for me by now, and might be tracking. But it was slim. My breath came in short, sharp pants as I labored to keep up the noise, trying to ignore the hands tearing at my clothing. I couldn't ignore the knife that was pressed suddenly to my throat. Wide eyed, I gazed, terrified, at the Saxon. His companions jeered and laughed, though many had drawn their weapons and were now looking about, wary. It began with a series of 'loving' caresses, which got more brutal and scathing. I closed my eyes. I wasn't here. I wasn't here. I was safe, with Tristan, I was safe, safe! Oh please, let someone help me! Agonizing pain tried to take me over, and I railed against the intrusion, groaning as my ribs were pounded against. Blackness fogged the edge of my vision, pain in every nerve a burning fire that scorched me, scarring me. "You belong to me, little Sarmatian." Snarled the Saxon, baring his teeth. I glared, hissing through my own bared teeth, "I belong to no one, scum." This only resulted in more pain. Sudenly, I heard yelling, screaming. The Saxon looked up, and the last thing I saw before the darkness took me was a sword slicing between us and biting into his neck, showering me with lifeblood

* * *

"Dax! Open your eyes, Dax!" The voice was familiar, but I couldn't place it. I was warm, but far from comfortable. I burned, sweat running down my skin. Fire ached on my back, shoulder, stomach, side, and, to my horror, between my legs. I wanted to die. I'd rather be lying cold in the mud than have everyone know that I had let this happen. I groggily tried to open my eyes; everything swam before me, a pain induced ocean of colour and sound. With a moan, I closed my eyes again, wishing I'd been killed. 

"No, Dax! Please, come on, open your eyes." The voice was pleading, and so frightened, I cracked an eyelid, trying to focus. A man stood behind a boy. The man was tall, with curly dark hair and chiseled features. His eyes were a startling green. Those magnificent eyes were filled with sadness and anger. I knew this man, but couldn't remember his name. The boy was young, bright blue eyes scared and wide, his sandy blonde hair falling into the orbs, curling slightly. He was small, slender, but wore the colours of a healer. I knew him…from…from…from the Wall. "Dock?" I whispered, my voice strained. "Is…is that…?"

"Yes, it's me!" He whispered back, happy tears filling those sapphire eyes as he brushed hair back from my face. I relaxed slightly, looking back at the man. "And who is that?" I asked, looking over his shoulder. The man blanched, looking as though he'd been struck. Dock looked panicky. Another man came up behind him, and I felt fear strike my heart. He was huge, broad shouldered and skin headed, dressed in a studded coat and sturdy breeches. He was surely a Saxon. "NO! LET ME GO, LET ME GO, LET ME GO!" I howled, trying to get up, my muscles and bones screaming in protest. "Please!" I sobbed as Dock held me down, surprising strength in his arms. "Arthur! Get Therin!" He cried, looking back at the green eyed man. Darkness took me once again.

* * *

"She's fevered. Though it should be breaking soon." Said a woman's voice softly, "Her ribs have been cracked, she's got wounds almost everywhere. She's lucky not to be dead." 

"She didn't know who we were. She knew Dock, but Dag? She thought Dag was going to hurt her." Another voice murmured, sad. The woman sighed, and I could hear her soft footsteps approaching me. A cold cloth slid onto my forehead, but I kept my eyes closed, trying to figure out who these people were.

"What of Tristan?" She asked quietly. This name made a stirring in my heart, and I found myself straining not to open my eyes. I couldn't put a face to the name, but I knew I knew this man.

"He's…I don't know. He tried to get in here for a while, but Dag wouldn't let him past. So he sat outside for three days and now he's gone out somewhere. He's been gone two days." The man whispered as he drew nearer.

Suddenly, everything fell into place like a giant wave striking my mind. I knew who these people were! I jolted.

"Therin!" I gasped, my eyes flying open, "Arthur!" Therin almost fell off the bedside as she started, and Arthur jumped. "Where am I?" I gasped, tying to sit up. Therin quickly placed gentle hands on my shoulders, pushing me back down. "You're safe, Dax. You're at Vindolanda."

"Tristan? Gawain? Adair, Galian? Are they alright?" I blabbered, fighting against my cousin. Arthur quickly came to help, but I shrank back. I didn't want him near me. Hurt flashed over his face. "I'm sorry." I said quickly, collapsing down, wincing as my back flared. "I'm sorry." Therin looked between Arthur and I , and murmured, "Perhaps you should get something to eat, Arthur." He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine, and left. Therin and I looked at each other for a long while, exhaustion creeping over me slowly but surely. "You've changed," I murmured, watching as tears gathered on her long lashes. "You look older." She laughed though her tears, smiling a little at my comment.

"I'm so pleased you're alright, we thought you were gong to die. You've been asleep for almost a week." I winced at her words, wondering whether she knew what had happened. Her face softened and she leant down gently, kissing my forehead, drawing the covers up to rest on my collarbones. I realized with annoyance that I felt light. Far too light.

"Get some more sleep though, you'll heal faster." She left the room quietly, and I looked about. I was in my room, Venetia's empty bed beside the far wall. Venetia would never come in here again. Tears blurred my eyes. Why was I crying? I thought over everything, and let the tears drip down my face, waiting for sleep. A soft knock at the door made me look up. It edged open, and a face looked around it, a handsome face surrounded by dirty blonde curls; Finn.

* * *

Curse me, do what you will, my friends. 'm sorry this was such a horrid chapter. 

Reviewers;

**Op**; yeah, arguments ahead, but also recovery. Bit of an evil chapter..

**LANCELOTTRISTANBABY;** Hello again! Was wondering where you'd gone! En update!

**Ailis-70;** and I shall flee in terror of your wrath! I know, I know, such a bad thing to happen as soon as love is confessed, but it's all integral to the arguments and recovery of our Heroine. Finn and Brooding Boy are going to have a 'little' bit of a spat over this.

When Tristan lets loose, oh boyo, does he let loose.

Heh, little Gawain, bless him!

**Forensic Photographer711;** Thank you very much! And the high five was not lame! Whoo, Finn and Tristran showdown. Gonna be fun to write.

**Cardeia**; again, I shall flee in terror! It was an evil thing to do to our Dax, but, Tristan and Finn need something really, really huge to go at, so there it is. I agree with the possessive men thing. It's annoying, but endearing, until it goes too far! I'm glad you liked the Kitten thing, I just thought, "Tristan and pet names. Hmm. Practical and yet cute…KITTEN!" heh,

And I' awaiting Dust Devil's update! Lol!


	28. It Is Done

_**It Is Done. **_

"Dax…"

The sound of my name snapped me into the realisation that I was staring. Finn's eyes were wide as he took me in, stepping fully around the door to shut it softly behind him. I didn't bother asking why he was staring. Sunlight slithered into my room through a hole in the curtains, lighting his only his eyes, emotions swirling faster than anything I'd ever seen. He stepped towards me, and an involuntary shudder ran up my spine. I didn't want him near me. He stopped, biting his lip, gazing at me. "I tried to see you before this but…" He trailed away. I looked at him, not saying anything, watching him carefully. He looked different, stronger, stranger, more handsome. He sat down on Venetia's bed, watching me. I felt eerily calm. Like some soft wind had blown all my pain and anguish away. It was a strange feeling. I smiled gently, feeling the skin around my eyes softening from the harsh lines of grief that had formed. I felt hollow.

"Say something," He pleaded finally, leaning forwards, voice desperate. I merely watched him, a small smile quirking the side of my mouth; a sad, lonely smile. "Dax, please."

I sighed, hauling myself up into a sitting position, groaning as my ribs burned and my arms ached. I felt stitches pulling fiercely, not popping, but causing discomfort. I felt every bruise, cut, graze, pulled muscle, cracked rib; everything. Somehow, I couldn't care. I felt hollow.

"Who saved me?" I asked, quietly, wondering why I was so raspy. Finn lowered his eyes, looking angry suddenly.

"Tristan. He and Gawain found you being…being…is it true?" He hissed. Looking up at me, anger in his eyes. I flinched. Did he mean Tristan and I? Or my rape?

My rape.

I'd been…oh gods. I'd... the calm shattered into the fire of pain that roared to life in my chest again.

"Finn, go." I choked, wrapping my blankets around me more firmly, tears welling in my swollen eyes. "Get out." He stood without a word, stalking to the door, looking back, fury in his eyes. "Tristran has a lot to answer for." He hissed, slamming out.

I closed my eyes, feeling the tears slipping down my bruised, grazed cheeks, salt stinging the wounds. I'd been _raped_. Saying it to myself made it no better. And Tristan had seen. He'd seen what had happened.

I sat quietly, drying my own tears, thinking pensively.

The hollowness inside filled partially with sorrow, shame and a deep, _burning_ resentment that took root somewhere in my soul. I hardened my features. There was only one way I could deal with this. I took it; everything I could remember, and smothered it in my heart. The cold iciness that infused my limbs became part of that emotion; locked away, deep down, where I would never speak of it again. Goddess help anyone who spoke of it to me. I would never let anything like that happen ever again. I was a survivor. I could get through this; I would not be cowed. I clenched a fist, feeling a cut open up on the back of my hand. The blood trickled slowly down, and I raised the hand to my mouth, licking away the red liquid slowly; watching dust particles drifting in and out of the sunlight.

* * *

It was another two weeks before I could get out of the bed without having to lie back down immediately. People came to visit me regularly, talking about how the fort was working, about riding out to fight Woads…mainly, it made me irritable; I was useless and bedridden, and they were out fighting. There was only one relief in that second week. My courses came. I cried, grateful, so grateful that I wasn't pregnant. I don't know how I would have coped had I discovered I was with child. My visitors were fairly frequent, though I stared to get a little agitated after a while. Han was the worst. He and I had a one sided screaming match (he screamed, I held my head, trying to reign in my temper) about when I returned to duty. I thought dully about the argument.

"_You're not to go anywhere alone!" Han fumed, striding around my room, hand locked behind his back in such a good impression of Arthur, that I told him about it. His face reddened, eyes flashing. "Dax! This is not a joke! You nearly died!"_

"_I know." I snapped back, keeping my voice quiet; it hurt to talk. My head pounded as I massaged my temple with a bandaged hand. "We're all going to die eventually, Han. I didn't die. I was outnumbered. They wanted a ransom, it could have been worse." _

"_That's not good enough." He murmured, sitting on the edge of my bed. I didn't draw away. He was my brother, I could trust him. "I don't want to see you hurt." _

"_You're fighting a losing battle there, Brother." I murmured, raising the bandaged hand to gently stroke his stubbled cheek. "A losing battle." _

Dagonet was a pillar of strength for me. After confessing what happened at Viroconium, I'd cried as he left the room, hands clenched.

He'd returned an hour later and talked long into the night with me. We talked about Venetia, their relationship, and also me and Tristan; Dagonet was a hopeless romantic, to my surprise. He didn't hold me to blame at all, which I felt was slightly wrong, but was also incredibly relieved at. Dagonet was a good man, and I hoped fervently that he would find love again. He continued to talk late into the night with me whilst the others frequented the tavern, a friendly, quiet giant with whom I thought I could share anything. I was grateful for Dagonet. Had I believed in Arthur's God, I would have said that the man was an Angel sent down from their Heaven.

* * *

At the start of the third week, I walked out of my room, leaning against the wall for support, making my way down to the kitchens; I was hungry. It was late in the afternoon, and the spring sunlight was still enthralled in the depth of the winter chill. My dress, damned thing, swirled around my legs and booted feet; I could find no slippers. I supposed it could have been worse; the dress covered my feet. I heard a mother scolding her child somewhere outside. It reminded me forcefully of Dock.

I grimaced, thinking about the consequences should Dock catch me out of bed. It would be dire, for sure. Dagonet's shadow loomed up in the sunlight at the end of the corridor obviously the large knight because of his size, I'd come to see it reflected onto the walls of my room when he had to see me in the night. I looked hurriedly for somewhere to hide; I wasn't allowed out of my room, and he came to check on me every now and then. I slid along the wall, opening and sliding in the first door I came to. Closing the door behind me, I sighed, leaning my forehead against the wood as I listened to the gentle giant that was my friend rumble past; I thought guiltily about his reaction when he reached my room.

My stomach rumbled ominously, and I smirked a little, brushing my ridiculously long hair over my shoulder with stiff fingers.

I realised with a growl of frustration that it was around the time that the kitchens would be at the most busy; in preparation for dinner. Besides, the Legionnaires always hung around there, flirting with the maids and hoping to get extra food. Big, hefty men. I shuddered; no. I would not go down there. I thought about where I could go to get away and not be discovered. The answer came to me in a flash of mental happiness. The Orchards.

* * *

I leant against a tree, breathing heavily. Cursing my health and all Saxons, I carried on. It would take another three weeks for my ribs to heal to a degree where I could begin to gently ease myself back into training, and I was already itching with impatience, having to lie abed most of the time. I wanted to be out doing something that would help, or at least be of some use to someone. Not have to be checked on and fused over, taking up peoples time.

A soft sound caught my ears, and I froze, wondering whether someone had seen me. '_Why would someone be out here anyway_?' I thought frantically. Poking my head around the tree, which was only now shooting green buds, I looked around.

An old cart stood in the middle of the Orchard. I grinned, remembering hiding in it with Han in the first year we'd come to the fort; it was one of my only happy memories of this place. The cover was tattered and green from being under the trees, the wood was slightly damp on the edges, but it was used to store baskets of apples in collecting season. I walked towards it slowly, wrapping an arm around my ribs, tasking measured breaths.

"Hello?" I called uncertainly, throwing my caution to the winds; all the knights would be heading to the mess halls now anyway, no one would be out here.

"Someone in there?" A voice called back out, and I froze again, swearing quietly. Rowena!

"If that's you, Daxera, you'd better get in. If someone sees you out there, there'll be hell to pay."

I raised an eyebrow; it wasn't the response I thought I'd get. Shuffling slowly towards the entrance to the wagon, I looked inside. Rowena grinned; ensconced in a heap of furs and blankets, her slightly swollen belly protruding from under her dress, the young woman looked the picture of health. Baby Alessandro snored happily in an old blanket, wrapped up snugly.

Carefully, I climbed in, hissing slightly as my ribs shifted. '_At least most of the bruising_ _has gone_.' I thought. Rowena tugged me gently in, minding not to bump my side. I worried about her straining herself, but she didn't seem to care. In a motherly fussing fashion, she leant me against the wall of the cart, tucking a blanket around me and handing me a flask of wine and a slice of pie wrapped in a clean cloth. "There now, comfortable?" She beamed. I stared; she seemed to glow in the ray of motherhood.

"I see you're feeling well." I commented, taking a sip of wine and a nibble of pie. I groaned as the sweet food and drink graced my tongue. "Thank you. You have no idea how annoyingly mundane soup is after a while" Rowena chuckled, sitting back to cuddle her stomach affectionately.

"Aye, I'm well. The sickness has stopped now, so I'm feeling wonderful." She looked concerned. "How are you, Dax?"

I looked down, thinking about how I was. I'd locked away the pain in a place that I couldn't reach anymore; it was a forgotten incident. Now all I had to do was to start reacquainting myself with touching men. Even Dock set me on edge now, though I was careful not to show it.

"I've made myself forget." I admitted, looking up with a determined expression. "I don't want to talk about it."

Rowena nodded. "Understandable. I'm not going to pretend I understand everything that happened to you; I don't, and I won't lie. If you ever need to talk though, I-…"

"You're there." I finished, taking another sip of wine, relishing in the feel of the warm liquid sliding down my throat. "I know."

Rowena looked sad, tilting her head down before murmuring, "I'd like for you to talk to me about normal things too. I've been lonely since Melva…" Her voice broke. "I should have been there for her!" She cried, looking up suddenly. I frowned, feeling practical.

"You're pregnant. You couldn't have done anything, Rowena." She glared at me, but I finished anyway; "Not like me." Rowena's gaze immediately changed to one of pity and remorse.

"Gawain told me about this." She said softly, reaching a hand out to me. I took it, feeling my icy-cold fingers encased in hers. "You shouldn't blame yourself."

"I still do. I know I could have saved her if I'd gotten there faster." I groused, pulling my fingers out of hers as I noticed the concerned look she was giving my stark-white hands. "But I also know what's done is done and can't be changed."

"Dagonet often stands on the walltop at nights." Rowena murmured, glancing shyly through her lashes, waiting for a response. I didn't say anything for a moment, thinking about all the hours the gentle giant and I spent talking. It was a surprise he never mentioned it. But then, it was only natural that he should want to spend some time grieving alone.

"I would not deny that I am surprised…" I said slowly, thinking about my words, "But I don't see why I should find this strange. The man is grieving, Rowena."

She nodded, offering me the wineskin again. I took it and drank a little, not wishing for my alcohol depraved system to become overwhelmed. It was one thing being out of bed, but there would be an Apocalypse should Dock find me out of bed and drunken.

* * *

A little while later, we sat, comfortable in our silence amid the furs. "We should start heading back." Rowena said suddenly, looking about. I agreed, helping (albeit slowly) to put the blankets under an oilcloth cover, keeping them safe from damp and mildew. We slid out of the wagon and strolled slowly through the trees, Rowena carrying Alessandro in his basket. I glanced down at the child. "He's grown so much," I whispered fondly, reaching a hand down carefully to stroke his head, the thick hair on his skull slightly springy. It was the colour of his mothers; a rich, vibrant blonde, but he had his father's eyes; a deep brown whereas Rowena's were green. "I know." Rowena sighed, lovingly glancing down at her son, her other hand unconsciously rubbing her swollen belly.

"How are you and Tristan?" She asked suddenly. I flinched.

"How….?" I asked, cringing. I didn't think I could bear this. Tristan had been one of my less frequent visitors. He would sometimes be loving and sweet, for all my hesitance in letting him touch me, and other times blow cold, as though I was something to be tolerated. I didn't understand.

"Everyone knows. He and Finn had a shouting match." I stopped, clutching my ribs, eyes shocked. "_What?"_

"The week after your return, Finn came storming into the hall, looking for Tristan. He started screaming about him having a lot to answer for, letting you get hurt like that." Rowena said, watching my reactions as we slowly began walking again. I thought back to Finn's first and last visit to my room. "_Tristran has a lot to answer for!"_ He'd snarled, before leaving. I groaned, shaking my head. Rowena took this as a sign that I was hurting, and stopped.

"I'm alright." I said after a moment. "I'm just annoyed. I'm not some possession that can be shunted from place to place." Rowena made a comforting noise, adjusting her son's blankets. I felt anger brewing inside me at the two men.

"What did Tristan do?" I asked carefully.

"He told him to keep out of it. You and him, that is. Said that you were his." One part of me told me that this was a sweet thing to say; the other, considerably larger part said that I was not a possession. I'd said to Tristan that I was his, and I meant it, but I still wanted my freedom. To be domineered in such a way was disconcerting and annoying. I didn't want to be owned by anyone right now. Especially not a man.

We left the shelter of the trees and began strolling towards the training grounds. I halted.

"Rowena, it's probably best if I'm not seen." I said, gesturing towards the grounds, I opened my mouth, about to say that I would head back to my room, when the clash of steel on steel and the shouts of men were heard.

"Tristan! Finn! No!" Rowena and I looked to the training grounds, looked at each other, and began hurrying towards them, me holding my ribs tightly and Rowena clutching her stomach. The shouts got louder as the sounds of fighting intensified. I felt a gnawing worry at my heart as we rushed towards the courtyard.

Finn and Tristan broke apart, each breathing heavily, circling in a deadly dance, blades held out, ready.

"You didn't protect her!" Finn cried, lunging. I leant against the rail, disbelieving as Tristan countered, snarling, "I got to her before you, boy. I saved her as best I could!"

With a furious yell, the pair slammed together again, the knights gathered in the stands shouting at them to stop this foolishness. None of them had seem myself and Rowena.

"She isn't your concern anymore, Finn!" Tristan bellowed, and I flinched. He never shouted. Always so calm and collected, Tristan had never yelled at anyone, or so I'd seen. I felt anger bubbling away at my insides as the pair exchanged insults, bandying over my virtue, who was the better protector, who _deserved_ me. I'd had enough. I couldn't deal with this. I made a swift decision that tore my heart.

I would love neither, until I had healed in both heart and body, I would love no man. Tears slipped down my cheeks as I watched Tristan move; lithe and graceful, he was the better skilled, but Finn, for all his basic movement, was fast and strong. His braids fell into his eyes, and I yearned to swipe them back.

I watched as the pair clashed again, and I could watch no more. I drew in as much air as my lungs and ribs would allow.

"_Enough!" _

The furious yell echoed around the room, stopping everything. The knights in the stands stopped shouting and looked over, Finn and Tristan froze, swords mid swing. Baby Alessandro woke with a cry; I don't know how he managed to sleep through the noise in the first place, and wailed.

"Enough." I repeated as Rowena comforted her boy. No one said anything. I did.

"I am not some possession. I am not a prize to be won. I am not a wilting flower. I am not a maid. I am not helpless." Both Tristan and Finn opened their mouths here, but I raised a palm, halting them, _"I am not helpless_." I repeated. "And I won't be treated as such. We all face danger. All of us. And yet, here you are, fighting over an incident that is already forgotten in my mind." Lowering their swords, Tristan and Finn looked somewhat unsure of themselves.

"I am done with being coddled by the pair of you. From now on, I am calling the shots in this, and if I _ever_," My voice raised a little, "Ever hear of you two fighting over this again, Gods help you, because I will hunt you down and kick both your arses."

At that moment, Arthur came running, followed by Jols and Arlana, who must have alerted him to what was happening. "What is going on!" He asked, looking around at us all, his eyes almost popping as they reached me. "Dax, you-,"

"Nothing is happening. We're done here." I said coldly, walking past, forcing myself not to limp or hold my ribs. I paused in the doorway, straightening my shoulders. "It is done."

* * *

I am going to let you flame me. I can't seem to write! I think I might have writers block…that's why I've rambled so much in this chapter…

_Reviewers; _

I read somewhere on the site that you can't respond personally to reviewers anymore! (I read this on a Story, I checked the Guidelines, but couldn't see anything.) Someone care to shed a light?

Thank you all for reviewing, I wouldn't keep writing if it wasn't for all of you. Please continue to review; I value your opinions and ideas, so please, please don't stop!


	29. Freedom

_**Freedom.**_

Tristan's eyes locked on mine, pleading. My heart tore even further; I wanted nothing more than to go to him. But, I would not.

It had been three months.

I lowered my eyes, instead perusing the surface of the Round Table, half listening to Arthur talking about the newest task we'd been set. I sighed, picking up my goblet and gently sipping the mulled wine, relishing the warmth of it.

Summer was upon us, the slightly warmer weather causing humidity in the fort and surrounding country. I decided I liked the winter better. At least you could wrap up against the cold; in this weather, you couldn't go much further than your skin in training. It smelled like rain outside, but it wasn't likely.

"…and so, Knights, we will be leaving tomorrow for around four weeks; I suggest you pack lightly. We will be moving at speed." Arthur finished, leaning over the table with his hands braced on the hard wood. My eyes shifted to Rowena, who grinned at me, giving a small wave. Her belly was huge. It wouldn't be long now. "I have faith in you all. These Saxons must not go unpunished for all the lives they have taken." I felt my insides squirm a little at the mention of the word. I raised my goblet to my mouth again.

"Dismissed."

With the command, we all rose, a scraping of chairs and the start of a thrum of talk. I walked alongside Bair, who grinned at me. "You ready for this fight?" She asked casually as she brought out a knife, flipping it expertly and catching the handle. I nodded, silent. "I can't wait to see you fighting again." She said suddenly. I stopped, surprised.

"What?"

"I can't wait to-,"

"I heard what you said, Bair. I should have asked 'Why?'" I continued, shifting to let Galahad and Gawain walk past. Bair watched Galahad, a sad look in her eyes. I felt a little sorry for her. Galahad had taken to following Gawain about. Bair was lonely, though she was always with someone, she missed the boy Galahad had been. She seemed to give herself a little shake as we continued down the corridor.

"You've gotten wild." She replied, looking thoughtful.

I laughed, shaking my head. "I'm the same as I've always been." I answered, ignoring the small, niggling feeling in my stomach _'I am not wild…_'. "I haven't changed."

Bair snorted, flipping her knife again. "You've changed."

"How?" I challenged, fierce. She raised her chin defiantly, something she always did when she was preparing herself for a battle. I hadn't changed, I was sure of it. All the extra training had been to get myself on form again, that was all…

"You've spent three months training like nothing else, you jump at the chance to ride out whenever there's a report that there might be trouble, you've stopped talking as much," She paused for breath, holding a hand out to pause me as I opened my mouth to protest, "You've changed, Dax.. Everyone sees it. Even Arthur. He came to me the other day asking if you were alright."

"And you said?" I grumped at my roommate. Bair had moved in a month ago. As much as I didn't like to admit it, I welcomed the company. I didn't like being alone in that room.

"I told him the truth. I told him you still had nightmares, I told him you get up early and go to bed late. I told him about your silences." I brimmed with frustration. I was trying to get myself back on form! Would no one see that? And the nightmares were…

I could deal with them.

They were dreams, nothing more.

"I'm trying to get back on form, Bair. Besides, I relax too. Look at the other night." I said with a triumphant grin, waving my hands to emphasise my point. Bair chuckled, patting my shoulder. "You've changed."

* * *

We separated; I left for the training yards, Bair for the bathhouse. I thought hard about what she'd said. None of it really made any sense.

Alright, maybe some of it made sense. I had become quieter, though I didn't think it was that noticeable, "Everyone changes." I muttered to myself, frowning. "Everyone."

"Talking to yourself?" Asked a kind voice. I looked up with a grin at Dagonet, who smiled back warmly.

"Aye, well, you know…got to find some way to keep myself sane. Been around you lot too long." I retorted, winking. Dagonet rumbled with laughter, shaking his head.

"Dock is looking for you." He chuckled, "I think he's already gone to the training yards ahead of you." I thanked the big man and continued through the streets, dodging a smelly, drunken Roman and waving to Vanora. She grinned, her own belly massive. Rowena and Bors' lover had been spending a lot of time together recently.

I passed the barracks, waving as Adair and my brother emerged. Han winked, poking his tongue out at me. I did the same, surprised. I stopped and waited as they jogged over, raising an eyebrow at my jubilant sibling. "What's got you bouncing off the walls?" I asked dryly as he flung an arm over my shoulders. Adair walked on Han's other side, a small smile gracing his mouth. "Life!" Han cried joyfully, waving his other arm around expansively. "Life and…and life!" I chuckled, patting his arm.

"You had a wench last night, didn't you?" I said with an almost accusatory tone. Han looked mock wounded. "Me? Wenching? No, dear sister, that, I leave to our own talented Lancelot!"

I looked behind my brother. Adair nodded, raising an eyebrow as though to say; 'And look what it does to him.'

I pushed Han's arm off as we neared the training grounds, remarking, "Begone, mad boy." My brother bowed, a huge grin on his face as he practically bounded away down the street, a laughing Adair in tow. I watched them for a moment before turning to walk into the wooden building…and hit something solid. Stepping back quickly, I looked at Tristan with wary eyes. "What?" I asked, backing off still further. He stepped forwards; I stepped back. He stopped; I stopped. "Dax, _please._ We can't go on like this." He murmured, looking almost as tired as I. I shook my head. "Don't start this again, Tristan. I can't hear it from you also." A fleeting moment of anger crossed his face as I mentioned Finn. He and the handsome blonde still felt animosity, much to my chagrin. If we were to work together as knights, we had to be willing to save each other, watch eachothers backs. Those two were more likely to stab each other at the best of times.

"And don't look at me like that." I continued, moving to walk past him into the training yard. His hand shot out and grabbed my arm. In a moment, I'd stepped one leg behind him and pushed his chest, sending him crashing to his back on the floor over my leg. "Do not touch me." I whispered heatedly, breathing hard. "Stop it, Tristan. Just stop." He scrambled up, fury flashing in his eyes. I thought for a moment he would grab me, and I stepped away hurriedly, tensing. He looked wounded. Hoarsely, he rasped; "Dax, I _love_ you. Yet you act as though what happened didn't." I clamped my hands over my ears, childishly. "I know." I murmured over and over. "I know, I know." Taking a deep breath, I lowered my hands, looking him straight in the eye.

"Tristan, I am not healed. What I said in Viroconium wasn't a lie. I was yours then, and I think I might still be. But stop this. It is ended for now."

"Am I supposed to wait for you?" He cried, lowering his voice as Galian walked past. Seeing my face, Galian slowed, but I waved him on, telling him with my eyes that I was alright. I turned back to the Scout.

"No, Tristan. You are not supposed to wait for me. I wouldn't let you even if you wanted to. Just stop pleading with me, stop being off with Finn, stop haunting my steps." I murmured, keeping distance between us. Tristan stepped forwards; I stepped back. "Dax-,"

"Tristan. No." I said more firmly. "Enough. Just…just leave me alone." Tristan's face hardened, and in that moment, I felt my heart tear, adding to the thousands of holes and rips it was suffering under. Gods, how I hated this place and all it stood for. "Fine." He turned and stalked away. I didn't watch him go.

* * *

"Dax!" I grinned tiredly as I walked into the indoor training yard, the lanky boy of thirteen jumping off the fence to jog over. I ruffled his hair, laughing at his irritated grin. "'Lo Dock. You alright?"

"Aye, what're you going to teach me today?" ; I hadn't just been training myself in the past three months. I didn't want Dock to face the situation in which he'd been stabbed again, so, between myself and Dagonet, Dock had been taught hand to hand, knife work, basic sword and a little archery. He would never be caught unaware and helpless. Never again. I rolled my neck around, listening to the dull pop as it hit a funny joint. "Do your stretches first, boy. You'll not learn if you have a strained muscle; you should know that." I ordered. Dock glowered at me as he set off at a jog around the medium sized yard. I followed suit, alternately dipping to press one hand to the floor.

"Now," I started, setting myself up into a start position. "Remember the rolling punches Dag taught you? Im going to start off with a few of those…"

* * *

I strolled into my shared room two hours later dripping wet and tired. The thunderstorm raged outside; a weather turn that had surprised Dock and I as we'd been clearing up after our archery. Bair looked up, grinning. I looked at her strangely. It was a manic grin.

"What?" I asked warily, not entirely trusting the mad gleam in her eye.

"Come on!" She cried, grabbing my arm and yanking me back out of the door. "Bair!" I yelped, jogging to keep up with her longer strides. "What!"

"Come on!" Was the only reply I got, as I was pulled into the rain. "Bair!" I yelled over a thunderclap, racing after her as she ran for the open ground near the Orchard. "Bair, what the…eregfhh!" A mud clod stuck me full on in the chest. Bair laughed, hair plastered to her head, hands covered in mud. I stood there for a moment, shocked.

Then, a wicked grin spread over my face, and I reached down, grabbing my own clod of mud. Bair shrieked in a very satisfying manner as it slid down the back of her shirt. The thunder boomed and the lightning crashed over us as Bair and I ran around in the mud, screaming and laughing. I'd never felt so free! Not since we'd left home. It was exhilarating, the feeling of freedom as we bellowed our defiance at the skies. I felt water running down my face and realised it wasn't just rainwater. I was crying. Crying with happiness and freedom. I'd held so much inside, I hadn't truly let myself go for a long time. And it was wonderful.

"What the devil are you two doing?" Arthur yelled from his Praetorium, head sticking out of a window. He ducked back in as clods of mud hit the wall dangerously close to his head. Suddenly, mud rained down, splattering over both Bair and myself. Turning, I glared at my brother, Galian and, to my surprise, Therin. "Yaah!" Bair shrieked, windmilling her mud-filled hands, showering all of them. It was war. The others flooded from the barracks, and I realised how much I had missed everyone. Being so alone and walled off had hurt, even if I wasn't prepared to admit it yet. I watched as Bors smothered a roaring Dagonet with a glob of mud. I watched Therin and Arlana tackle Gawain to the dirt. I watched Galahad throw a clod at the back of Lancelot's head.

The tears that ran with the rain dried. I was never alone; this was my family, and I would have to lean on them. Healing would take a long while. _'But_,' I thought with a grin as I snuck up on a bewildered Arthur, who stood watching as his knights played like children in the mud and rain, the storm raging over us, '_at least I'll be with the ones I love._'My heart didn't seem so pained now. Arthur turned suddenly, eyes widening;I grinned.

Splat.

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Please review; I know there's not a lot happened in here in respect of battles or the like, but I like to know people are reading this and enjoying it.

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Went to Vindolanda the day this was posted (I have the Knights stationed there.) It was amazing. **Praetorium**; **The Commanders Villa; and may I say, it is _rather_ grand. Lucky Arthur…****

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Ailis-70**

Vindolanda was _fantastic! _I didn't want to leave. Got photographs, I'll have to get them developed and scanned in, and I'll send some to you!

Heh, thanks for reviewing; I really didn't mean to make it seem as though I was telling you to review. Yeah, Dax had walls, but I'm trying to soften her a little; to show that there is still some respite in the fort; it's not all horror and darkness.

In seeing that Dax is trying to drive people away, the others have tried to draw her back in. I tried to display that in this end bit.

Hmm, I might go a bit AU; I don't much like Guinevere either.

And I agree on the reviewing; I didn't see anything in the guidelines, so I'll go on the way I did!

**Cardeia**

Heh, thank you for the support; I love your reviews. Yeah, our Dax hates lying about. I hope you don't mind, but I sort of drew on your idea that Tristan would grab her in a moment; I didn't use the alley or the kiss; I think I want Tris to be a little gentler in his approach now.

I really wanted a big confrontation between the three, and I think I got that across alright.

I think I'll just get on with replying individually as I think I should. I checked the guidelines, and didn't see anything there, so it cant be that important!


	30. Of Hangovers and Jealousy

_**Of Hangovers and Jealousy **_

"Up! Lazy bugger!" I scowled into my pillow as Bair crashed about. She was never subtle in the morning. I held my head, realising with a twinge of annoyance that I had the mother of all hangovers.

And I was still caked in mud.

Somehow, Bair never managed to get a hangover; a fact that was loudly debated (mainly by Bors) in the mornings after by the rest of us.

"I'm hungover." I announced as I stood up shakily. Next moment, a cold, wet cloth obscured my vision, and I was peering at the world through blurry eyes. The world was a cloth.

"Urgrgh." I sat down again. Closing my eyes, I placed the wet cloth over the back of my neck, placing my face in my hands as I tried to focus myself. "You shouldn't drink so much." Bair chastised gravely, her voice ricocheting around my head. I opened my eyes enough to glare at her. "I had to carry you back here last night." I growled. "On my own. You were legless." Bair shrugged, grinning.

"I don't remember."

"You wouldn't." I retorted. "You thought I was your Uncle."

* * *

Eventually, I was clean and a little less doddery on my feet, and I made my way down to the stables. We weren't due to leave until midday, and it was still relatively early. I wondered whether Arlana was up; we hadn't talked in the mornings for a while, and I was eager to see how she was. I crossed the deserted streets to the stables, stepping inside the warm building.

I was greeted by a loud snore.

Narrowing my eyes uncertainly, I padded softly into the stables, and looked over a partition. Bors lay sprawled in the hay of the empty stall, mouth open, covered in mud and snoring away happily. I covered my smile with a hand as I carried on to my stallion's stall. Vanora mustn't have wanted the huge man in her bed last night. I chuckled, wincing as my pounding skull reminded me that I shouldn't even be up at that moment.

I wouldn't have wanted him either; he'd chased the poor woman around, trying to grab more ale. I'd never seen a pregnant woman move so fast. After checking Rend's tack and my saddle bags, which I'd left in the stable, I decided that a visit to the infirmary wouldn't go amiss; Dock made a wonderful hangover cure. I was about to walk past Bors, when I heard him wake.

"Whoosair?" He mumbled grumpily. "Whooosair? Ohhh hell…my head…" I poked my head over the partition. "Morning."

Bors glared. "How are you so cheerful?"

I shook my head gingerly. "I'm not. I had more to drink than you last night."

"Ohh."

"Remember?"

He grunted in what might have been a laugh. "No." I grinned, stepping back.

"I'll leave you to gather your wits." I mumbled, before making way for the infirmary.

* * *

"I'm getting sick of seeing you in here." Therin admonished as I walked in, holding my head tightly. "Go away."

I scowled at my cousin, sitting down on the end of the bed without looking at it.

"OOF!" I would have leapt up, but my head screamed in protest. "Morning, Galian." I grumped. He poked his head out from under the sheets, bleary eyes and his blonde curls in disarray. He looked adorable. I started, immediately regretting the action; and wondered where that thought had come from. "Mrrnin." Was the groaned reply as his head thumped back down on the pillow. I watched him for a moment. Then;

"My head hurts."

"Mine too." I replied in a murmur, before appealing to Therin, "Where's Dock?" She laughed quietly. "He's not awake yet. You'll have to wait for him." Galian and I groaned, before I chuckled at the mishap. "I'm going to sleep again." Galian announced, burrowing his face under the covers. "Same. I'll sleep in here." I added, about to get up to look for another bed. I squeaked as Galian's muscular arm slid around my waist, pulling me down into the waiting bed beside him. He tossed the sheets back over the pair of us, snuggling up to my back. I froze. Galian sighed, murmuring, "Dax, I'm not going to hurt you. Relax, woman. You're my friend. I wouldn't hurt you for the world." His no nonsense tone took me by surprise, and I found myself relaxing into his broad chest and comforting hug. I looked to Therin, who merely smiled gently, nodding. A strange light came to her eyes as she left, closing the door behind her quietly. "You remember the whole trip to Britain? You and me were beside one another every night like this." Galian murmured, shifting a little. I didn't say anything. I remembered my ire at waking one morning to find that I couldn't get up for Galian's arm, which had been solidly ensconced around me. I closed my eyes, relaxing properly. "What harm could it come to?" I murmured to myself. "What?" Galian mumbled, hugging me closer. "Nothing." I whispered.

"I miss you, Dax. We don't talk like we did." He admitted, and a moment later, his breathing quieted, and I felt a contentment welling in my breast as he slept. I was safe in his arms. Thoughts of Tristan and Finn entered my mind, but I brushed them off. Galian was my friend; a man I'd known all my life. What harm could possibly come of this? My eyes slipped shut as I sighed happily.

* * *

I woke to birdsong and a much calmer head. "Thank the gods." I whispered, closing my eyes again and wriggling back into Galian, who slept on, arms around my waist and his chin resting on the top of my head. I rolled, burying my face in his shirt. I grinned as I realised it smelt of mud and rain. Truly; no one had escaped the mud fight. Immediately afterwards we'd all gone to the tavern without changing. After that, I'm almost certain no one could remember where they slept.

The door banged open suddenly, and I jerked, waking Galian at the same moment. "Whaa…?" He mumbled, pulling me closer as I tried to get away from him to see who was there. "Gal!" I laughed, "Let go, you oaf."

"Yes. Let go."

Both Galian and I froze. He was looking over my shoulder, gray eyes wide. I froze because I knew the voice. Slowly, I turned over, watching as Tristan stalked towards us. "Get off her." He said in a low voice, not taking his eyes from mine. Galian squeezed my waist as he slipped from behind me. I stood.

"Galian, would you mind very much going and getting me an extra tunic from my room?" I asked sweetly, my eyes not leaving Tristan's.

"Not a problem. You going to be alright here?" I could hear the underlying tone of worry in his voice as he stood behind me.

"She's fine." Tristan snapped, breaking eye contact with me to glare at my fellow tribesman. "I'll be fine, Gal. I'll see you soon." I echoed quietly, turning to him. I would have smiled at the concern I saw in his gray eyes, but I nodded, giving him the barest of smiles. He left, leaving Tristan and I in the large room alone.

"What was that about?" The dark man asked. I could hear the carefully controlled temper in his voice. We stood mere feet apart. Tristan's eyes burned with a dark anger that seared into me like a hot wire, his jaw tight and his fists clenched tightly at his side, as though to stop him grabbing me. I felt anger bubbling away under my skin, and I was sure that my narrowed eyes were fierce.

He repeated the question.

"I heard you the first time." I snapped, standing as tall as I could. "I'm not amused, Tristan."

"_You're _not amused?" He echoed in disbelief. "_You're not amused?_" He strode forwards, and I jerked back, slapping away his hands as he tried to grab my shoulders. "You tell me that you can't be with anyone, and yet here I find you in Galian's bed!" He roared. He'd never shouted at me before. Outrage surged through me, overcoming any fear I might have felt as I stepped up to him, tilting my head to look him in the eyes as I snarled, "Galian is my _friend,_ Tristan. You're not looking at the facts!" He glared down at me, his chest brushing mine as he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. I stepped away and around him, splashing cold water on my face, rubbing my temples as the hangover headache began to return. My gut roiled, my heartbeat felt erratic. "You're taking this too much to heart." I murmured, leaning my hands on the bowl and looking down into it's depths. "Forget about me, Tristan. It will be a long time before I take a lover." Tristan growled angrily behind me…Before I could cry out, I had been wrenched around, pushed against the wall, and Tristan's mouth plundered my own. Panicked, I hit his chest hard with my fists, whimpering as my wrists were seized and pushed down to my sides, held there by stronger hands. Pulling away, I could feel him pressed to me. I shook, terrified. _'He just took what he wanted from me._' I thought dazedly. _'Like I was nothing… He's like them…._'

Tristan seemed to look horrified for a moment, as though realising how much he'd scared me, before he tugged me properly into his arms, pulling me close. I didn't know what to do as he murmured, "I only wanted to show you how much I cared." He tugged me over to the bed and sat me down, cupping my chin gently with a hand, he pressed his lips softly to mine, and left. I felt dazed. Lying back down, I stared at the ceiling, pondering what this meant. Did it mean that I should go to him? No. It would not. I could not. Not until I had learned to trust as I once did.

Galian burst through the door, looking worried. "Tristan passed me on the way-he said he'd frightened you." His eyes hardened as he looked at me; but I knew it wasn't anger at me. It was anger at Tristan.

Tears filled my eyes as I rolled away, my back to my friend. Softly, reassuringly, Galian hugged me, and I hugged him back, sliding into his lap like a child, thankful that, for once, I could lean on someone.

* * *

Leaving the fort was painful; we knew that we weren't going to be back for some time. A month, approximately. We all knew that Rowena and Vanora would have given birth by then, and there was much hugging and tears on their parts. Rowena tugged me aside and pushed a small package into my hands; "Here, Dax. Don't open it here, but just open it when you have a quiet moment." She whispered, patting our clasped hands gently. I nodded, wrapping her in a hug, leaning down to lightly kiss her swollen stomach. "You be good to your Mamma." I said firmly, eliciting a giggle from the beautiful woman. Arthur walked up behind her and drew her away for a tender kiss. I smiled softly at that; Arthur and Rowena were very much in love; that much was obvious to all. I turned back to my horse, securing my red scarf more tightly around my neck. This cloth had been with me through thick and thin; I wasn't about to let it go. I slipped the package into a pocket in the side of my saddle, cinching the flap firmly. A soft tap on my shoulder bade me turn around, to meet Finn's eyes. I looked down, knowing that he was looking at my pale face. "You look ill." He murmured, softly. I tried to back away, but found my horse in the way. "I have a hangover." I mumbled; "Dock didn't have time to see to me this morning." Finn chuckled quietly, lifting my chin with a leather gloved hand.

"Daxera, my lovely, you've never been a good liar." My eyes snapped up to his, blazing. I lifted my chin from his fingers and looked him in the eye. "I'm fine."

Finn leant down to my level, regret and passion in his eyes. I cursed as my horse shifted, shoving me closer. Finn's eyes narrowed a little, as he looked at something on my neck. I unconsciously shifted a hand to the area, feeling a little mud flake off. Softly, I smiled.

"Mudfight."

"Aah, I understand. You know," He said airily as he turned away, "Galian had an interesting conversation with Tristan just before." I started, seizing his arm, pulling him around. "What?"

"You heard." Finn's face was not unkind, but I thought I saw agony in his eyes.

"Would you have been as concerned if it had been me?" He whispered, looking pained. "Of course." I whispered. "Though it wouldn't be needed; you would never hurt me." As soon as I'd said it, I clamped a hand over my mouth. How foolish was I! Finn merely looked surprised for a moment before his eyes darkened. "Please don't do anything. We all have to work together, not become separated by idiocy!" I whispered hurriedly. He nodded, sighing. Quickly, he twitched his nose, making me laugh. He grinned down at me; "Anything for you, Dax." I felt flustered, and was incredibly grateful when Arlana called for me, asking for a goodbye hug. I nodded to Finn, and, blushing, made my way over to my friend.

We left minutes later.

* * *

After four days of rain, sludge and humid weather, even Dagonet was starting to get irritated. Shifting uncomfortably in my saddle, I fingered the lucky charm Rowena had given me. A small stone, a hole drilled through and the Sarmatian Rune for "warrior" lay on my chest, the throng that held it tied securely. I smiled through the misty rain that came down, thoroughly soaking us. "You're looking cheerful." Han grumped next to me, looking adorable with his hair plastered over his forehead. I grinned, reaching back to my supplies, gathering some of the rainwater that had collected there and flicking it at him. "Hey! Pack that in!" He yelped, to a reprimanding look from Lancelot. I laughed outright though quietly, at Han's expression.

My laughter ceased as an arrow thudded into Han's armoured chest, throwing him back off the horse and into the mud. I drew my sword with a scream of rage, as did everyone as Saxons swarmed from the trees. We were under attack.

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Please Review. I started College today; I need encouragement!**_

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Ailis-70; I know, thanks. I get a bit worried that people aren't enjoying the story when they don't review._**

Bit more of Finn in this chapter; and more of Brooding Boy too, getting very grumpy… The family bit is important, and I've tried to show this. I don't want it to seem like all the guys are fighting over Dax or anything.

Tristan's reactions in this one were more obvious; he's been building up for so long, the final straw was seeing Dax possibly moving on, (which she wasn't, it was a mistake!)

Thanks for reviewing! I'll try and get the pics up soon.

**_Cardeia;_** Wow! Huge review! Thanks!

Yeahh… Dax is having acceptance issues! So's Tristan. It's going to get messy in later chapters, which should be fun to write, so hey !

Dax has tried to tell Tristan to move on, but he's not ready to, which, obviously, is going to cause havoc!

Trying to protect everyone is Dax's 'responsibility' or so she feels.

**_Forensic Photographer711; _**Here you are.!

**_LANCELOTTRISTANBABY; _**Updated, as promised.


	31. Drunken Beserker

_**Drunken Berserker. **_

Sliding from my horse, I gave the beast a sharp slap to the rump, knowing that he would stop before reaching the trees.I looked desperatley for my brother,not paying attention.Gawain yelled at me from somewhere on my left, already immersed in Saxons. Belatedly, I realised that he was looking behind me, and so I spun wildly, just managing to stop an axe blow. Looking up, I took in the Saxon. My blood ran cold. The battle noise dimmed and stopped as all seemed to silence.

The massive Saxon man looked almost exactly like one of my captors had. His snarled, blonde hair matted and dirty, a filthy beard and beady, stupid eyes with a flat, squashed nose reminding me forcibly of the bastard who raped me. "Give it up, girly!" He snarled, spit flying from his mouth in a wave. I trembled, trying to remember what I was supposed to do. A voice in the back of my head screamed in rage, urging me to hurry and move, killing him to go onto another. I couldn't move. In horror, I watched as my sword began to lower, seemingly of it's own accord. He howled in triumph as he swung at me. I didn't hear it…

An arrow embedded itself in his eye.

I shook all over as Bair grabbed my shoulders, delivering a short, sharp slap to my face.

The noise of the battle crashed in around me. The screaming, yelling and clashing of blades; then, she was gone, moving to another kill. I saw my brother in the fray, pale, but fighting for all he was worth. I thanked the Gods he was wearing his armour and mail; he would have died. _'That doesn't mean that the injury isn't serious, now_ move, _you useless sack of wine!' _The rational part of me thought furiously. I smiled as another Saxon lunged at me. Swiping up cleanly, I slit his throat, his lifeblood spraying out over my face in a hot mist of death; I closed my eyes for a moment against the warm rain. When I opened them again, something had changed.

With a scream, my mind went blank, and all that existed was the kill. This was what I was made for. To kill. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was aware of rational thinking, but for the rest of me, a blank red mist had descended, and rage coursed through me, howling in its ferocity and dangerous in its temperament. My movements became ferocious, killing with the intent of plenty of pain. I lost count of how many stomachs I plunged my blade into, but I smiled in the satisfactory knowledge that they would bleed slowly to death. One Saxon dropped to his knees before me, pleading. Slowly, I crouched level with him, smiling reassuringly. I drew my blade, and slit his throat. There was a sickness inside me that screamed in triumph. A cold fury that killed without remorse. I thought I'd conquered this beast inside. The girl that had killed a Hun when she was small had relished in the killing only a little. This woman lived for the murder. The larger part of me loved this. The other part of me screamed in horror that I was doing these things, screaming at my cold blooded murdering path. I stood again, looking around, seeing that the battle was almost done. Only a few Saxon's remained. With a jolt, I realised that I was seeing knights I didn't know. Young men plucked their way amongst the bodies. The red haze began to fade, leaving me with exhausted and horrified tears streaming down my face. I turned so no one would see. What I saw was the trail of destruction I'd left behind me. Dead and dying Saxon's littered the ground in my wake, Limbs missing on some, most dying of stomach wounds, some had throats slit, others, chest wounds that gaped and steamed, the glistening blood running down their jerkins and armour. The almighty stench that arose from the gut, their intestines slashed open by my laughing blade, made my own gut wrench. I almost retched, but pulled myself back together fast. It wouldn't do for the others to see it. I counted the bodies quickly. Twenty eight. Twenty eight men I had slaughtered, twenty eight men had fallen to my wrath. I wiped at my cheeks tiredly, mentally running through my injury check. I was totally uninjured. I looked down at myself. I steamed, blood drying on me, congealing on my shiny armour plate. I wrinkled my nose in disgust, looking about for my brother. The air was warm, adding to the stench. With a sigh, I began picking my way among the bodies, avoiding the blazing wagon that seemed to have appeared from nowhere. Pushing blood matted hair back from my eyes, I squinted at a young man I didn't know. "Hello." He murmured shyly, looking a bit out of place. He was tall, gangly, with long blonde hair that wouldn't have looked out of place on a wench. Tied back by a throng, it left his finely sculpted face with it's blonde stubble and high cheekbones free to the viewer. Bright blue eyes examined me. He looked so innocent. The mace in one hand and short sword in the other spoke differently. I nodded, looking over his Sarmatian armour. Bair waved at me from beside someone, looking worried. I felt my heart quicken, and I thrust my sabre into it's sheath, jogging between the dead and dying to her. My brother lay with his eyes closed.

I fell to my knees, hot tears streaming down my face as I grabbed his hand, smoothing his soft curls from his face. His eyes opened, the brilliant and vibrant blue piercing my own eyes. "I'm alright, just somewhat tired." He rumbled, squeezing my hand. "Some bastard clubbed my head." I leant over him, pressing my forehead to his, a small sob escaping my lips. "I thought you were dead." I whispered, kissing his bloody brow. "Please don't die. You got shot. Please don't die."

"I won't, Little Fire. I'll never leave you." He murmured fiercely, butting his head softly against mine. "I promise." My tears fell onto his face, washing away from of the grime, but neither I nor he cared; he was alive.

* * *

One week later, and we were all sat at the small tavern at Cilurnum, a fort on the wall about half a day's slow ride away to the east of Viroconium. Arthur was missing, as usual, along with Lancelot. This was unusual, as there were plenty of pretty bar maids to flirt with. I scowled at one as she leant over me to get to Gawain, her cleavage in my face. "Get out of it, wench." I snapped eventually, giving her a shove. "Walk around me, don't lean over me." She gave me a dirty look, before smiling seductively at Gawain, sauntering away. Gareth's eyes followed her. I liked Gareth; of our new additions, he was the one who seemed to fit in better than most. The young man was the same I had seen on the battlefield. "Looks like Gareth has his eye on a wench!" Cheered Bors drunkenly, waving a pitcher about, almost walloping Bair over the head with it. She and he were stout drinking companions. Gareth flushed, ducking his head into his cup. I gave him a small wink. "Don't mind him, Gareth!" I said loudly, looking out of the corner of my eyes at Bors. "He's just jealous that you can have free reign; Vanora'd skin him if he strayed! He's scared of her!"

I ducked the pitcher.

Han laughed, holding his ribs as he did so. I cast him a worried glance, but he grinned at me, motioning that he was alright. He had healed well, the arrow wound being neither deep nor wide. He'd laughed at my insistence that he wore his armour whenever he went outside the fort from now on. I was rather indignant. The worst injury was his; luckily, no one had sustained anything more than a few cuts and bruises. We had lost no one. We had also gained five new knights. Sarmatians like us, they had been brought on a second sweep of our home, an act that deeply disgruntled us all; who was to say that they would not start taking more and more of us, leaving the very old and the very young to fend for the tribes, taking generations away. Gareth, the blonde, was quiet and solid, for all his willowy appearance, a young man of around twenty, though, Bors had commented, he didn't look a day over sixteen. Lamorak was a brown haired, bright smiled jester, always delighting in others laughter. However, his broadsword was of a size to match Dagonet's and the ferocity of his loyalty to his friends was admirable. Daeine, the only girl left of their troupe, was a pretty, dark haired girl with deep brown eyes. She had a tinkling laugh, her small stature drawing attention wherever she went; however, her lover, Percival, was ever watchful of the Romans who ogled her. Percival was a slight man with a scrubby brown beard of about twenty two summers; a contrast to Daeine's sixteen. He was skilled with the bow and blade, and handy with an axe. Bedivere was the only knight that didn't look like a knight. He was of medium height with light grey eyes and a shock of black, messy hair. His face was so calm and peaceful, he just didn't seem capable of killing. His face was handsome, but strangely childlike, for all that he was older than my sixteen years. He sat shyly with Hafgan, preferring the young man's silent acceptance of him, rather than having to prove himself. Of their section, only they were left; from thirty knights, they were all that remained. They had been in service roughly as long as we had. Their commander, a brutal Roman who went by the name Iago, was a greedy and malicious advisor to a Centurion; why he had been given command of them, they were never told, but it had ended with Arthur. He refused to leave them at the post; so they were coming back with us. I sipped my wine, closing my eyes tiredly. I was dead on my feet; exhaustion nagging at me, but as another mug of wine was plonked down before me by the scowling bar maid, my tiredness seemed to lessen. I made a rude hand gesture at her and knocked back the wine, throwing myself into the alcohol. Maybe, if I was drunk enough, I'd be able to forget the Saxon's face as he knelt before me, pleading. Maybe I would forget being so out of control. Maybe.

* * *

"Dax, give me that!" Arthur whispered furiously as he chased me down the dark street, keeping his voice low so as not to wake anyone. I staggered drunkenly, giggling like a madwoman as I lurched about, trying to keep the wine pitcher out of his grasp. "Sod off!" I snorted with a laugh, poking him in the ribs as he reached for the pitcher. "S'my wiiiine. Getcher own. Hehhe…." I felt my legs give way, and I landed with a soft plop on the hard road. Arthur glared down at me, and though I saw two of him, both swaying strangely, I saw a slight smile playing around their mouths. "Whooo…" I sang, giggling. "Whooo, whoo, whoo…." Uncontrollable giggling followed as I lay down, pointing at the sky and singing 'Whooo.' Over and over again. Arthur began to laugh as he sat down beside me. I reached out and grabbed the back of his tunic, yanking him down to lie beside me. "Whoo."

"Whoooooo." He replied, which brought on another laughing fit. After the tears of mirth had dried, I felt a little less drunk. I looked at him. "Arthur?"

"Yes, Dax?" I looked at the sky again, aware of his attention.

"Why did you come after me? It would have been easier to send one of the others." I mumbled, randomly pointing out the Hunter in the night skies. Arthur sighed.

"I feel so much like an outsider sometimes, Dax. I just want to be friends with all of you. Can't I do that?" Remorse crashed down on me in waves. "Arthur, I didn't mean-."

"I know you didn't. I just feel so…"

"Isolated?"

He looked at me in surprise. I met his eyes with a knowing look. "I know what it's like." I muttered, sitting up, bracing my elbows on my knees. "You feel like no one's there for you. Like there's a camaraderie that you can't access. I was like that after Venetia….Venetia d-died." I choked on the words. "I thought that you would all hate me. I thought that you were all going to block me out."

"Dax…we would nev-."

"I know. It just seemed that way." I amended. With a short sigh, I swayed to my feet, holding a hand out to Arthur. "Bed," I said firmly. He reached for my hand, pulled himself halfway up, and fell over, dragging me with him. I began to laugh, drunkenness returning ever so slightly; "_Whoo…"_

* * *

Right, I want reviews, people. I can't continue if i don't know what you think. Thank you to two of my most constant reviewers, **Ailis-70** and **Cardeia**, and a shout out to the wonderful **Sinned Darkness**, who wrote a stonking 15 reviews in one night! i was shocked!

_LANCELOTTRISTANBABY;_ Thanks for reviewing, hope you liked.

_Ailis-70;_ I made you cry? I don't' know whether to apologise for that! This chapter is a little odd; I think it's the product of a first week in Sixth Form… Not much mention of either of our boys in this one, but plenty on newbies. Hope you liked! I'm pleased you liked the way I made Brooding Boy react, I had to have a situation that would incite upset and worry in him to do so. Et Voila!

_Sarita04; _Thank you, and I know what you mean about reviewing. I'm terrible at remembering to do it.

_Sinned Darkness; _You made my day for me with all those reviews! Fifteen!I thank you so very, very much. I grinned like an idiot for about eight hours… hope you liked this one.

_Cardeia; _AAAAAND more drunken revelry. I don't know whether this was well done or not, but I needed some way for Arthur to seem a little more involved; I felt he was being neglected. I might do a little Dax/Finn, just until she gets back on her feet. Hmm… have a thinky.. I've been considering it for a while, but I wasn't sure how to go about it.

I took time out! It's five to midnight here, and I've been writing this chapter over a week. It's not long, but I have been given three essays in the first four days of sixth form, so I'm snowed under.. I'm less stressed now; I think you're advice was great! Hope you liked.

_Furibondo; _Ooh, Hello! A newbie! Right, questions; no, I am not moving away from Dax/Tris altogether, she is stil in love with him, but it hurts her to think about moving back into a relationship after what happened. I tried to display that, I'm sorry that it wasn't that clear! I'll try to make it more obvious in the future. I really enjoyed your review, thank you!


	32. Sleepless Nights

**Sleepless Nights.**

_Sleepless nights, memories of the Saxon's faces as I slew them without remorse, Finn and Tristan's faces as I staggered through my training, exhausted at the lack of sleep. Concern and annoyance in both blue and brown eyes. I couldn't win…_

* * *

"_You can't avoid me forever." Finn grinned good-naturedly as I curried Rend. I didn't answer, merely shot him a look that said exactly what I thought. Finn laughed, handsome features widening in a smile. "You may think you can, little Kitten, but you can't." I stiffened as I heard the nickname. '_Tristan called you Kitten.' _A voice in the back of my mind snarled gleefully. "I'll see you at dinner, Finn." I said tonelessly, turning my back on him. I heard him take his leave, and it was only then that I let a solitary tear work it's way down my face. _

* * *

"_Daxera?" I looked up at Tristan's voice, surprised. He leant in the doorframe to my shared room, hair windswept and a little damp with the rain. "Arthur wants to see you about Dock's training." I felt the small bubble of hope that had inflated in my chest pop. _

"_Oh. Alright. Thank you." I muttered, unsure of whether he'd heard me; he'd walked away almost as soon as he'd finished relaying the message. I dragged myself off the bed, limbs heavy. This loneliness that had begun to encroach upon me was silly._

_

* * *

Sparring was heavy work, especially against Finn. He was taller, stronger, and…though I was ashamed to admit it, more distracting than the others. "Tired, Dax?" He challenged playfully. I swung my staff up and around, slamming it down on his, knocking it out of his hands. "Oh my!" Hr grinned, steeping closer as I tried to get my breath back. Leaning down, he whispered, "Are you this fierce in bed?" I shoved him away, angry. He laughed and walked past me, seemingly unaffected by his defeat. I thanked Gareth as he handed me a towelling cloth, trying not to look at Tristan as he glared at me from the stands at one end of the training yard.__

* * *

Anxiety gnawed at me as Tristan limped past us all to get to Arthur, reporting of a Woad raid on a village. He looked so ill. As Tristan headed for the infirmary, I realised I was being watched. Finn's blue eyes bored into me, assessing, seeing. I turned away._

* * *

It had been almost two months since we'd returned to the wall, and all was quiet. I wrapped my cloak more firmly about myself, tugging my hood further over my curls, the rain dampening everything around me, splashing off the wall stones in icy droplets. Thunder rumbled overhead, lighting occasionally drowning out the shaft of torchlight that spilled from the open door of the corner tower. The dark night had little wind to it, but it was more than compensated for by the chill of autumn, which had begun to set in with a harsh bite, numbing fingers and causing colds.. I sniffled a little, wondering whether I was catching something. I leant against the wall, staring out from between the ramparts towards Hadrian's Wall. Taking another deep sniff, I closed my eyes for a moment, wondering why I wasn't in bed. Bair wouldn't be pleased if she found me out of bed again.

'_You know why you're not in bed_…' Snickered the nasty little voice that had taken residence inside my skull. '_It's because Tristan is out there. Isn't it? It's because he's somewhere you can't watch him.' _I scowled, giving myself a little shake to stop the voice, and, as though trying to prove it wrong, I turned and headed back into the corner tower, closing the heavy wooden door behind me with a slam, making the Night Guard stir in his slumber. I frowned at the Roman, and pondered whether to wake him. It was a quiet night, promising a clear, chilly dawn; there would be no danger. I shook my cloak off, looking around the room. It was simple, planked floors and a set of stairs in one corner heading down to the lower level and the street, which, in turn, lead to our barracks and the bathhouses. A little further on was the Praetorium and the granary houses. The marketplace was in the centre of Vindolanda, and bustled with life most days. I slipped my cloak back around me, shaking my head with a wry smile; I shouldn't have bothered to flick off the water; I'd just be going out into the rain again. I took one last look at the Guard and decided to leave him. Quietly padding down the stairs, I pushed my curls back with one hand as I opened the lower door, looking up into the cloudy skies. It was indeed a miserable night.

I dashed out and along the street, making a direct line for the barracks.

Fumbling with the handle, fingers numb and white with the cold, I swore quietly, gritting my teeth in frustration. Suddenly, my mouth dropped open. Someone must have woken up; the door was locked from the inside. "Bollocks!" I swore, looking around. I slunk to the corner of the barracks, gleaning as much shelter from the walls as possible. I poked my head around the side, looking for a way in. I spotted a barrel under a window, which, thankfully, had it's shutters slightly ajar. Deciding that the knight housed there would just have to deal with me, I clambered atop the barrel and shifted the shutters aside, quickly sticking my head inside to see where I would land. Letting my eyes adjust took moments, and I took a good look around. The knight had little belongings, and they slumbered silently in his bed, which was against the far wall near the door. Luckily, they didn't room with anyone. I slid through the window, landing silently on the floor. I picked up the chair from the desk and set it under the window, climbing up to pull the shutters shut again. As I stepped down, I realised that the room was unusually silent. The soft sound of breathing could no longer be heard. Before I could turn, arms seized my own from behind, shoving me against the wall face first; which, needless to say, was not very comfortable. "Hey, I'm a friend! I'm a friend!" I gasped, struggling. I was turned around and pressed back against the wall, a hard body trapping mine, a muscular arm pushed hard against my throat, restricting my breathing. I looked up, and in the gloom, eyes caught by a small shaft of moonlight, Finn's features sharpened. '_Of all the bloody_ _rooms I had to climb into, it had to be Finn's._' I thought furiously, feeling a blush creeping up my cheeks as I realised he was shirtless and only wearing a loincloth "Who are you?" Finn rasped, voice still raw with sleep, his curly hair mussed and on end.

"Err…I'm one of the knights?" I tried feebly, not really wanting to tell him, and, of course, knowing that there was no way I was going to get out of here without telling him who I was. As though to prove my point, Finn's arm pressed more forcefully across my windpipe. "I can't breathe!" I gasped, pushing my hands against his chest. Finn dragged me away from the wall, pushing my hood down. I cast my eyes down to the floor. Silence.

"What are you doing in my room?" He asked after a moment.

"I got locked out." I answered truthfully. "I was out…thinking… and when I came back, someone had locked the door from the inside. Your window has a barrel under it; so I climbed in here." I looked up, watching him. Finn's face looked half amused, half annoyed. "I'll just be going to bed then." I said quickly, making to move past him. Finn's arm snaked across my front, tucking neatly around my waist and stopping me still.

"Finn…" I groaned, closing my eyes. "Please don't. I didn't mean for this to happen."

Finn's eyes looked cerulean in the dim light, his chiselled features even sharper in the dark. "Tell me you don't feel something for me."

The question flung me off balance, and I pulled away quickly. I _did_ feel something for him, and I knew it. But I also felt something for Tristan. I _loved_ Tristan. Did I love Finn too? "I-I have to go." I stammered, darting to the door. It wasn't even a little bit open before Finn's arms came either side of me, pressing hard on the wood and erasing any hope I had of getting away. I turned, eyes wide and filled with uncertainty. Finn looked powerful, broad shoulders blocking a lot of the light, arms slanting down to either side of me, face strong and filled with an emotion I was frightened to name. Slowly, he drew closer, leaning his face into my neck, gently brushing strands of hair away with his nose. Softly, his hot breath ghosted across my skin, whispering, "Tell me you feel _nothing." _My breathing quickened, and I closed my eyes as small kisses snaked up and down my skin, blood rushing through me as Finn pressed his body to mine strongly, my breasts and thighs flush against his chest and legs. Finally, I could take it no longer, and I let my mouth meet his, lips caressing, tongues meeting and fighting for dominance. I was yanked away from the door, Finn's arms wrapping around me, crushing me. My own arms snaked up and around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him as close as possible. Unaware we'd been moving, I gave a small cry as we tumbled back onto his bed, Finn neatly sliding between my legs, pushing against me, showing me how he felt. It only invoked more passion, mouths meeting in battle. I wasn't sure whether I was angry; for some reason, I felt it there, in the pit of my stomach. It wasn't that I was angry at Finn. I was angry at something or someone else. I pushed the thoughts out of my head as Finn pushed my cloak off my shoulders roughly. His mouth descended on my neck again, kissing and nipping alternately. "You've no idea how much I _need_ you." He growled possessively as I scratched at his bare back with my hands, dragging him closer to me. I gasped as he bit the join between my neck and shoulder. I bit back, laving my tongue over the small droplets of blood I'd drawn, hearing a pleased groan from the man above me. The brief thought of leaving passed over my mind. Passed over and vanished as Finn lured me into another kiss. I'd had enough; it was time to move on.

* * *

I'm very, very sorry it's so short; I'm both ill and bogged down with school work. I'll try to make it longer next time. **Please review!**_**

* * *

Reviewers;**_

_**Cardeia; **Heheh…I thought I should make Dax a happy drunk; she's either grumpy or something is up for the rest of the time, so I thought I should give her a reprieve. I'm glad you liked the battle scene. Yes, I was quite tense when I wrote it; school had been horrible and so I was feeling a bit stressed. _

_Han! Oh, I couldn't kill him off! Don't be daft! Lol! And I thought it would make sense for Bair to be the one to give Dax a little shaking up as she's the one who lives with her waking up in the middle of the night. _

_Bonding with Arthur. Now then, Dax and Lancelot were the first to actually speak to Arthur properly, and so I thought that it was a bit strange that I didn't have more in between these two characters. _

_Berserkers; 28 kills is an awful lot for a small woman like Dax. I go the idea from books I used to read. A Berserker can kill however many unless killed or the human in them manages to regain control. _

_I'll try and make the blocks smaller; I know what you mean about the intimidating size of it! _

_**LANCELOTTRISTANBABY; **Thank you very much! _

_**SINNED DARKNES; **Of course you got a shout out! You did 15 reviews in one night! I know; I'm trying to keep the blocks down; it's not nice when the first thing you see on a page is a huge block of text! Hope you liked! _


	33. Two Months On

2 Months Later

Angrily, Finn and I clashed together, tugging at clothes and shoving the other, fighting for dominance as our mouths battled fiercely. Tumbling back into the straw of the empty stall, I growled in frustration as my hands were pinned over my head, Finn's own pleased groan as I wriggled juxtaposing my own noise. "I love it when you're like this…" He hissed as I nipped the tender join between neck and shoulder, still trying to twist from under him, trying to gain dominance. I could only produce a strangled moan as he ground his hips hard into my own, throwing my head back with a small noise. This is what it had come to. Finn was secure, passionate and as much unlike Tristan as I could get. And it was not enough. With a snarl, I rolled, pinning him as best I could before capturing his mouth with mine.

This is what it had come to. However much I snarled, Finn was not Tristan, no matter how long he held me into the night.

* * *

"Dax?"

"Hmmn?"

"Do you think about him?" I shifted, tugging the blankets around me more tightly.

"Go to sleep, Finn."

* * *

I stiffened as I felt arms slide around me, but quickly relaxed as I realized it was Finn. "I have to spar." I protested in irritation as he began to kiss the back of my neck. "Do you _have_ to?" He murmured in my ear, breathing softly, hot air stirring the curls at the back of my neck. "Yeah." I grated out with effort. "Yeah, sorry."

* * *

"Finn! I am not a possession, alright!" I bellowed, feeling anger streaming through me with abandon, colouring my cheeks. "Do not tell me what I can and cannot do!"

"Dax, listen!" Barked Finn, eyes flashing, curls falling into them. "You're not going out on your own."

The door slammed behind me.

* * *

"I love you." Finn whispered, kissing my nosetip softly. "I know you're asleep, and you can't hear me, but I love you." My insides roiled guiltily. I'd been having second thoughts. With a sigh, I rolled on face away from him, pretending that he'd disturbed me. I felt an arm tuck securely around me and tug me back into a warm body. Inwardly, I was cringing. Something had to be done.

* * *

With a grunt, I let my head fall forwards to smack unceremoniously against the tabletop, muttering a grumpy, "Ow." as it contacted harder than I would have liked. Rowena bustled past, Emilia on her hip, Alessandro tottering around happily behind her.

"I'm really in the horseshit now, aren't I?" I asked morosely, not looking up. I heard an annoyed sigh as Rowena shifted her child, clattering jugs and pots about.

"Do you still think about him?"

I raised glaring eyes. Rowena held up her spare hand in a ward like gesture. "I was only asking." Leaning back in the chair, I absently fiddled with the fraying edges of my red scarf, twitching my nose. Rowena rolled her eyes, eliciting a childish poking of my tongue. Next moment, I had my arms full with a giggling Emilia. Thankfully, she had her brother's infancy temperament. As I snuggled the child to me, I watched Rowena bustling about hers and Arthur's chambers, cleaning up and folding things away.

"Do you ever get bored of this?" I asked suddenly, spying her broadsword in the corner. For all Rowena was a mother, she had not come to Britain to live as one. She was here to fight. Roman officials that visited the wall muttered about Arthur's "Whore." A term which caused many a raised eyebrow and broken nose among the lower Roman ranks and Sarmatian Knights. Blowing a breath out and furrowing her brows, Rowena thought about my question. I watched her. She seemed so comfortable in her way of life. Could she go back to fighting?

"Yes." She said softly, narrowing her eyes a little in thought as she gazed at nothing in particular. "Yes, I do get bored."

I stayed with Rowena until Arthur came back, helping with occasional jobs and holding Emilia. She had her mothers eyes, but Arthur's deep penetrating stare, serious eyes that stayed serious even when she giggled. It was slightly unnerving to watch, but she was a babe with a loving temperament. Arthur came in looking haggard and annoyed, banging the door open forcefully. I raised an eyebrow at him, before gently handing Emilia back to Rowena. I turned to leave, quickly clapping a bracing hand on Arthur's shoulder, but stopped in the doorway as Rowena's voice called me back.

"Yes?" I asked, looking back, almost knowing what she was going to say.

"You have to tell him." I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose with calloused fingers.

"I know." I mumbled wearily. "I know."

* * *

I left Rowena's and Arthur's rooms with a sense of dread, walking with my feet dragging and my head bowed. It was for this reason that I was caught totally unawares by Daeine, who barreled around the corner and smacked full on into me, knocking the pair of us back onto the hard ground. "Shite." I groaned, pressing a hand to the back of my head, feeling for the already swelling bump. Dizziness waved over me for a moment before I shook my head, wiping a hand over my face. "Daeine, watch out, will you?" I asked tiredly. No answer. Craning my neck to look at the young woman who lay face down by my left side, I blinked. Her slim shoulders shook heavily, her head buried in her arms.

"Daeine?" I asked tentatively, sitting up to put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?" I'd not really talked to the young woman since she'd joined us almost three months ago, we were friends, but I knew little about her, and so didn't know what to do.

Pushing back the uncomfortable feeling I got whenever I was faced with a crying person, I gently tugged her arm, trying to pull it away from her face.

"Daeine? Do you want me to get Percival?" She almost shot up, pushing herself so violently from the floor that I was surprised she didn't fly into the air.

"Don't talk to me about that man!" She cried, eyes red. I drew back a little from my sitting position on the flagstones. Normally, the name of her lover could make her grin.

"Wha-?" I began, only to be ignored as she dashed away, a small sob catching on the breeze. I sat stunned for several moments, twisted around to look at her retreating back as it fled down the corridor. As I lost sight of her, I lay back down again, wondering what they'd fought about.

Daeine and Percival never fought.

As I looked up at the dark ceiling, I realized I had wandered quite a way; I was near the old baths, in the basic quarters. Our own barracks were across the road. The corridors here were fairly narrow, high walled and slightly intimidating.

Suddenly, I heard something.

I stood up quickly, rubbing the bump on the back of my head. "Someone there?" I asked in a friendly voice, looking back into the shadowy corridor.

"It's a strange thing, isn't it? Love." I tensed as Tristan's voice came from behind me, calm and slightly icy. "Does stupid things to people." I turned around slowly, raising my eyes to meet his. Tristan was stood only a few inches away, looking down on me with a severe expression. "Makes them…act strangely."

I opened my mouth to say something, but found a rough hand pressed over my lips. "Don't."

I tugged his hand away, annoyed. "I'm not a child, Tristan."

"I didn't say you were, Kitten." I closed my eyes, trying not to show how much the nickname hurt me.

"He's not looking after you, Dax." Tristan's tone was bitter, harsh. I opened my eyes, watching him as he took in my shirt, ripped at the elbow and under the left arm. "He's not loving you like you need to be loved."

"Finn loves me just fine, thank you." I whispered, sighing. I knew it wasn't a lie. But it wasn't the truth, either. Softly, I felt a touch at my throat.

Tristan examined the small luck charm that had lain under my scarf. I began to speak; "Ro-…"

"Rowena got it for you, I know. From one of the traders that passed through." Tristan passed me with a sad smile that tugged my heart.

"How did you know?" I called after him, clutching the charm. He stopped, looking over his shoulder.

"I helped her pick it out."

* * *

I lay on my bed moodily, hands behind my head, eyes narrowed at the ceiling. Bair chuckled from her side of the room. "If looks could destroy, that roof would have collapsed." I grunted in reply, shifting to lie on my side, facing her.

"What am I going to do?" I asked. Rowena and Bair were the two women I shared almost everything with, Arlana having increased duties with the horses and also with her lover, Gareth. Therin didn't seem the same, always looking out over the battlements, as though she wanted to run away. She seemed to be losing weight rapidly too, becoming thinner and thinner by the day. I'd mentioned it to Arthur and Dock, and Arthur had promised to look into it. Nothing more was said. I still worried. My cousin wasn't right.

"You want the honest truth?"

"Do I have a choice?" I quipped dryly. Bair was notorious for her bluntness.

"You have to tell Finn that you can't do this."

"I was afraid you'd say that." I muttered, rolling onto my back once more. Bair's voice rang out across the room.

"You know it's the right thing to do, Dax. Contrary to popular belief, you're not stupid."

"Neither are you, though many might think it." I retorted, and cried out as a sweat-damp training towel smacked me in the face.

* * *

The Round Table was restless that night. If Arthur had looked grave before, he looked downright deathly now. Han grinned as Gareth told him some joke from his other side, quaffing wine like water. I shared a skeptical glance with Adair; my brother had drunk three mugs already; he was going to be drunk soon. I sat with my knees hugged to my chest, resting my chin on my kneecaps. Silence fell as Arthur cleared his throat.

"Knights, I've gathered you here to talk about an incident which-…Therin, take a seat." He interrupted himself, as my cousin walked in. I watched her carefully. Suddenly, she swayed, and I called quickly, "Therin!" Before she crashed to the ground, eyes shut.

* * *

Please review. I know I didn't update for aaaages. Bad me….**

* * *

Reviewers.**

_Ailis-70; _Yeah, daft girl, but I think she needed the stability. However, she's quickly reaslised that she's been making a mistake… hope you liked.

_Furibondo; _It's fair enough that you're confused, and that you're beginning to mot like Dax, but I think she needed Finn as the safe player, and she's quickly realizing her mistake, and trying to backtrack.

_Cardeia; _That is scary. I did have a cold! A really horrible one! I know it's seems a bit quick that Finn and Dax are breaking apart, (on Dax's side) but she's not stupid, and I wanted it to come across that she's realizing quickly that she's making a mistake, though it's been helping her heal.

And for the record; I'm a weak woman too!


	34. The Day Of Revelations

_**The Day Of Revelations**_

I leant over my cousin, Han on one side, Galian on the other, looking worriedly down at her pale face. Dock gently nudged me out of the way, applying a cold compress to her forehead, smoothing back her hair carefully.

"What's wrong with her?" Galian murmured, turning his eyes to me, grief and worry etched into the strength and solidarity I saw there. I numbly shook my head, before taking a seat on the edge of the bed, grasping one of her cold, pale hands, my own rough warm fingers trying to instil some life. Han placed a hand on my shoulder, patting it lightly. "She's been acting strangely for a while." He rumbled from behind me, confusion in his warm accent.

Therin looked so cold, her lips slightly blue and her eyes closed, blonde hair making her seem icy. Her once full figure had slimmed to a mere shadow, fragile and weakened. Therin looked half dead. A small sigh escaped her, and she stirred slightly, a frown creasing her eyebrows and tugging at her mouth. Dock, who had strode away again, returned, changing the compress to one with sweet smelling herbs. He held in his hands a pot of something; he cast a shy glance at me.

I knew immediately I would be helping. " I'm not a medic. I'm not good at healing….What do you need me to do?" I asked, standing. Dock handed me the pot, blushing. "This needs to be applied to her chest, I think she has flu. A flu or fever of the brain…" I took the pot from him, turning to my brother and friend, ushering them to get out. Han quickly pressed a kiss to my forehead, drawing me into a hug. "Mother would have been proud." He whispered into my ear, squeezing me closer before releasing me. Galian clapped a hand on my shoulder as he left, casting one last worried glance at Therin before shutting the door behind him, leaving my cousin and I alone. Therin looked so ill, I was slightly afraid of what was wrong with her. Moving swiftly, I applied the paste, which smelt strongly of lavender and mint, to my cousin's skin, muttering a quick and silent prayer to Andraste that Therin would be alright. As soon as I was done and Therin was presentable, I called the others back in. With them came Brenna, who looked pale and shocked. She had straw in her hair and on her dress, which looked distinctly rumpled. Brenna spent a lot of time with the male servants around the fort, a pastime that would have been better left along. Time that would have better been spent in the infirmary, where she was meant to be. Brenna glanced nervously at Dock; "I _told_ her she looked ill, but she wouldn't _listen_ to me." She murmured, the usual whine in her voice. I scowled, muttering rebelliously, "Maybe you should have tried harder." Brenna looked slapped, and Han gave me and angry look before turning to the teary eyed girl, comforting her. Rolling my eyes, I turned back to Dock. "What can be done?" Dock looked at me, eyes grave.

"I'm not sure. She has to fight this, otherwise…"

"Otherwise what?" Galian asked, urging. Dock looked back at the bed, and I felt my stomach drop.

"She'll die."

* * *

"Dax!" I stopped short, closing my eyes tightly, pressing shaking fingers to the bridge of my nose, gathering patience. Finn jogged up beside me, curls flying everywhere. "What's wrong with Therin?"

"Fever, Dock thinks." I muttered, looking at the ground. "A flu or something." Finn let out a breath, holding out his arms to me, looking sad. I couldn't step towards him. A frown creased his handsome face. "Dax?" The questioning in his voice ripped at me from the inside, the pain and realisation burning blazing heat in his eyes. His arms fell to his side. "You love him, don't you?"

"Yes."

"You don't love me?"

"I love you too…but.."

"But what?"

"Not like I love him." Finn blinked, hurt written on every aspect of him. Dejectedly, his shoulders slumped, his voice slightly thick.

"I thought we were…we were in love." I felt an aching need to wrap him in my arms and explain everything, but I knew that I could not.

"Finn, you healed me. After..after..that. You helped me see that I could trust again." I murmured, honesty resonating from every syllable. "I love you, but I cannot be with you. Not when I feel this way about someone else." Finn nodded, not looking at me. I stepped forwards, desperate, "Finn, please.."

"I'm alright, Dax. I'll be in my room later, if you want to get your things." Turning, he walked away, leaving me in a state of self hate and anger, at myself, at the world, at Tristan and everyone. He left me in a state of grief and worry. I did the first thing I could think of. I headed for the training grounds.

* * *

Slowly, sensually, I swept my sabre around me, eyes closed, my entire focus on the blade, the sounds around me, and my being. Calmness suffused me, washing over me like a wave of peaceful tide, aiding my movements and enabling me to hear everything around me.

Swinging the blade upwards and down again, an arc cutting the air, I listened to the farm yard animals next door, the shouting of a mother, most likely Vanora, for her children. I listened to the scuff of my feet in the dust and the thrum of my blade as I sped up my dance. Weaving, twirling, dancing, the rhythm of blood coursed through me, a natural beat to a timeless dance, the red rage that had surfaced in battle pushing, growling against my mental restraint. "This isn't what the dance is about." I told it quietly, twisting into a half moon, sliding my sword through the air. "It's about honour, calmness…being detached…"

"Serving a purpose?" My eyes snapped open, blade flying around to point at the intruder. Arthur raised an eyebrow at the blade pressed to his leather covered chest. I quickly lowered my blade, blushing furiously. When had he come in? I hadn't heard a thing.

"Been taking lessons from Hafgan on stealth, have you?" I remarked dryly, looking about for my sheath. Arthur laughed and wandered over to the barrier. I watched curiously.

Excalibur flashed in the afternoon sunlight as the clouds parted, the open roof of the training yard suddenly spilling bright light into the dark hall. Striding back to the centre, Arthur held his blade at the ready, motioning me to do the same. Bewildered, I held to the guard, bracing myself.

**Clang. **

The dance began, each of us using footwork, deviousness and cunning to try and outsmart the other. Arthur's green gaze was simple, not angry and tempestuous, like my own. '_For lack of a better word,_' I thought, '_he looks amused.'_ With a growl, I flung myself to the side, pushing hard against Excalibur as our blades met in a cross. Bad idea. Women may be fierce fighters, but we are mot as strong as males. Ducking away, I was pleased to see Arthur was slightly off balance, and so, I swung my blade up and around, trying to twist his sword away from him. Instead, to my shock, I found my own sabre skittering across the floor, and Excalibur pointing at my throat.

Arthur chuckled, and I straightened my features. I can only imagine how bewildered I looked. I had gotten used to winning. "Dax, the Woads are planning an incursion near Concavata.."

I raised an eyebrow, picking up my sword. "Why's that any of our business? They're way over in the west." Arthur looked sharply at me for a moment, and I wondered what I'd done.

"I only meant that they have forces from Aballava and Uxelodunum closer by. We're almost three days journey from there."

"The forces there have deserted." Arthur's tone was disgusted and repulsed. "That's why the Woads are attacking there. There will be no resistance, save for the villagers that stayed behind."

My mouth dropped at the audacity of the Romans. We had to leave home to fight someone else's battle, while a load of them deserted?

"They're dead men walking." I hissed, clutching the grip of my sabre, furious. "We have to give up our families and homeland to make up for Roman scum who can't fight their own battles and ponce off from duty!" Arthur chose to ignore the jibe at his heritage, instead sheathing Excalibur and heading for the door. "That's the idea." He said grimly, before adding, "Dax? Don't lose control in a battle. Your brother is concerned it will happen again."

The shadow he cast was tall and strong as he opened the door and left.

* * *

"Well isn't today the bloody day of revelation!" I snarled as I paced Rowena's quarters. "Can no one tell me anything? And why Han thinks that he can't approach me! I'm his SISTER!" Rowena watched me from her bed, sitting with her back against the wall and her knees drawn up. Arthur's clothes lay haphazardly on the floor, and I paced around them, glowering. Bair leant against the fireplace, watching me also, a cup of calda in her hands. I turned to her, eyes emotional "And Therin…" Sadness made a black hole within me. "I don't know what I should do." Rowena patted the bed beside her, motioning me to sit, gesturing for Bair to join us. "Que sera sera."

I snorted, taking Bair's cup and sipping a small amount. " Ita- Cansu consoloto."

Bair laughed, snatching her cup back. "Orcae ita." We grinned at each other, debating what we could do for Therin.

* * *

The room was dark when I stumbled back, giggling away, the room swaying. Bair was still at the tavern, holding a drinking competition with Bors-and winning. I shook my head with a smile as I leant heavily against the wall, "Hell if I'm bringin' 'er back." I slurred, talking to myself. A clatter behind me had me spinning around, whipping a dagger out, vainly trying to focus on the darkened corners of the room. "Whhosair?"

"You shouldn't drink so much, Kitten." As Tristan walked into the small patch of moonlight that swept into the room, I noticed a black eye and split lip. My drunken self, however, disregarded this.

I grinned, sitting down on my bed with a thump. "'Lo, Tris."

* * *

Please review.

* * *

Notes.

Latin speech by Bair, Rowena and Dax. 

'_Que sera sera' **Whatever will be will be. **_

' _Ita**- **Cansu Consoloto' **Yeah, accidentally on purpose!**_

'_Orcae Ita.' **Hells Yeah. **_

_**

* * *

Reviewers.**_

Cardeia; Sorry I haven't updated in so long, been incredibly busy with school…

Yeah, the "breakup" was horrible! I didn't know what to do! So…ehehe…. Tris!

I want to put in more Lance, and I almost wrote him in as the other half of the fight sequence, but I decided on Arthur in the end to give Dax a bearer of news. Bair and Rowena are Dax's olden day Agony Aunts!

I'm sorry I had you sobbing! If you ever need to talk, my mail is on my homepage!

Ailis-70; Sorry I have been so shoddy with the updating! Yay! Stupid grins! I do that often when reading.. you feel like a fool, but can't stop smiling! Dax's relationship with Bair and Rowena is her rock. Once upon a time, she would have locked it away, but I feel that Dax needs to open up her character a bit more. Et voila!


	35. The Loss and The Gain

The Tithe'd Ones

The Loss and The Gain

Waking was a painful experience. My head pounding, I groaned as I tried to roll over. A warm weight at my back and an arm wrapped securely around my waist stopped that.

'_Ohhhhh no_.' I thought, scrunching my eyes up. '_What did I do?_' With a curse, I rolled out of bed in the other direction, landing on my hands and knees on the floor. '_Well, I'm fully clothed, so _that_ didn't happen_.' I thought warily, patting myself around the ribs for reassurance. I looked up at the bed, and my mouth dropped open.

Tristan lay fast asleep on his side, arm sprawled where I had lain only moments ago, hair partially covering his face. He looked peaceful, and it brought a small smile to my face. Reaching over to my pack, I pulled out a small sachet, taking from it a sprig of mint and chewing happily on it as it banished the taste of stale alcohol on my breath. Sitting in a heap on the cold ground, I could have sat there forever and have been totally content. But for the sudden realisation that his eyes were not totally closed. Dark brown eyes gazed out at me from beneath dark lashes, and I leapt up in shock, cursing immediately as my pounding head had me swaying dangerously. Instantly, Tristan was up and by my side, gently holding my waist as I clamped both hands to my head.

"I'm never drinking again." I groaned, leaning into his shoulder weakly as dizziness washed over me. "Ever."

"Right." Tristan muttered with a trace of a laugh as he helped me sit back down on the bed. I lay back and let him tuck the covers up to under my chin. As his hair swung out of his face, I noticed bruising around his eyes and a cut on his mouth.

"Tristan." I said sharply, sitting up with a wince. "What's that?" Turning away quickly, he headed towards the door. "Nothing, you want me to bring you something?"

"Tristan!" I snapped, peeling back the covers and swinging my legs out, holding a hand to my head and cursing drink, "What happened? You get into a fig…" I would have loved to have seen the expression on my own face at that moment. I was going to kill Finn.

"Sure. I'd like some water, please." I remarked dryly as I returned to bed. Tristan's features hardened. "I know what you're doing." He snapped, "And you're not doing it."

"Really? Says who? You?" I countered, falling back onto the bed with a thump. "Right…"

I cried out in alarm as I was forcibly dragged upright again, head reeling, and shoved against the wall, a gasp of pain as my blood roared in my ears, eyes closing tightly as I fought against nausea. I _really_ wasn't drinking _ever_ again. For a few moments, I couldn't get my bearings, struggling to cope with the sudden shift of my surroundings. Until a mouth tenderly lowered itself to my neck, nipping softly as Tristan growled, "I'll not have you fighting him. It's my fight." Outrage surged through me as I tried to shove him away, angry and confused. Instead, my wrists were gripped tightly, pushed to the wall by my sides, my gut doing pleasant flips as his strong body leant into mine. "I…" Drawing breath, I tried again. "Tristan, he can't take it out on you." Pulling his neck back a little, Tristan smiled. For a moment, I was dumbfounded. It was a true, genuine smile. Leaning his head down, he pressed his forehead to mine and whispered, "You care? You really care?" His dark eyes bored into mine, searching, hope lit up in them. The dam broke.

"I never stopped." I whispered back, heart painfully banging against my chest as I realised with full force the truth of my statement. "I mean… I loved Finn too. But not… not like I love you." I could feel a flush rising in my cheeks, burning away as hot as a fire. None of that mattered, however, when my Knight pressed his lips to mine and well and truly claimed me.

* * *

Hours later, after my hangover had receded, we were called together. Bair grinned as soon as I walked into the Round Table hall. "What?" I asked warily, stopping where I was. "It's a good thing I found somewhere else to sleep last night." She laughed quietly, looking at me pointedly. I flushed bright red, practically hurling myself into my seat as she laughed. I banged my head down on the table as my brother sat next to me, looking weary. I took a short look at him, wondering whether to bring up the matter of his concerns over my fighting. After a moment, I decided against it. "How's Therin?" I asked, head still firmly lain on the tabletop. "Bad." The cheerful bubble that I'd had since seeing Tristan that morning burst abruptly.

I sat up at that, looking over sharply at him. "What?"

"She's getting weaker, Dax. I can't stand to see her like this. It's like she's already gone without being dead." My eyes pricked as the tired, defeated sound of my brother's voice, and I looked around, trying to stop any tears falling. My eyes came to a rest on Dock, who looked totally exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and a hollow look about him. I chided myself, thinking about how little time I'd spent with him lately. He was no longer the boy who'd left Sarmatia. He was a young man, tall and still clinging to the coltish manner of youth. Sadness in those eyes reminded me of the night in the stable loft, when the boy had sobbed in my arms. His first experience of war and death had left him shaken.

And now, after almost four years of her service, Therin, who'd never killed a man in her life, was dying. Our healer. My cousin. My features hardened to stone as Arthur entered the room and sat down, looking grave.

"Knights, today, we ride out to Concavata to head off the Woads who are planning an incursion there-…"

"What about the deserters?" Bors asked, disgust clear in his tone. "What are we gonna do with one of 'em if we find one?" Arthur shifted in his seat uncomfortably, eyes full of grief. "We crucify them." A soft murmur ran around the room, Galian leaning over to whisper to me, "Arthur's God isn't so bloody merciful, is he?"

I shook my head, keeping my eyes on Arthur as he continued, "But for the moment, we only worry about the Woads."

"And if some of the Romans have joined with the Woads? They'll know that there will be a resistance." Rowena pointed out, leaning back in her chair, waving one hand expansively.

"Exactly," Gawain agreed, leaning forwards until some of his short blonde dreadlocks swung before his eyes. "They'll know what to expect."

"Perhaps, which means that we'll be travelling as a group. No one is to leave the group on their own, apart from Tristan and Hafgan." Arthur reasoned, nodding to the young knight. "We will be gone for about two weeks, so pack lightly, but warmly, we'll be sleeping outside for most of the time." I looked around the table. There were, all together as fighting knights, a number of twenty two. A fair few, but not enough to take on deserters and Woads. It would be like Viroconium all over again. Four against many. This time, it was twenty two against many. Venetia was the victim last time, and I would not let it happen again. As the gathered began to disperse, I voiced; "There are too few." Everything stopped. Arthur looked at me strangely. "What?"

"There are too few, Arthur. This is suicide." I repeated slowly and deliberately. Galahad chuckled nervously from beside the door. "We might get lucky!" He joked lightly. I fixed my eyes on him. "As lucky as Melva? As Cadman and Venetia?" I pointed out. His face paled.

"It is Rome's order." Arthur growled, eyes purposeful. I glared at him, and for the first time, resented my Commander. "Damn Rome," I snapped, "Imagine a Rome that could fight for itself instead of stealing the sons and daughters of some faraway land? Wouldn't that be a sight?" Arthur looked as though he had been slapped. Rowena cast an angry look at me, before stepping to her lover's side, her hand slipping into his.

The knights looked between Arthur and me, tension growing. "We ride in three hours. Dismissed." Arthur murmured finally. As everyone began to leave, I was stopped. Arthur's voice silencing everyone yet again. "Dax, you stay behind, I want a word with you."

* * *

"What _exactly_ was that?" Arthur asked coolly, leaning on the Round Table as I sat, stony faced in the chair I had been allotted. "You've never voiced anything like this before." I remained silent, to my Commanders obvious irritation. "Dax…"

"Venetia." I blurted out, hand partially over my mouth, absently chewing a nail. Arthur frowned. "What?" With a sigh, I ran a hand through my hair. "The last time…" I paused, thinking about how to phrase it. "The last time we went somewhere not on our turf, there were far too few of us. Me, Gawain, Tristan and Venetia against countless rebels- don't you deny it!" I cried, annoyed as Arthur opened his mouth to argue. "Don't you _dare_ deny it, Arthur! Look what happened-Venetia ended up _dead!_ And I…" I trailed off, thinking darkly about the events after that. Arthur's handsome face was pensive as he walked around the table to face me, squatting down on his knees until he was just below my seated level. "Daxera, you can't swell on what was." I hissed in frustration, trying hard not to grab his broad shoulders and shake him.

"Arthur, wake _up_! Those soldiers would have been caught if they'd travelled down south. The only other place they had to go was the other side of the wall. They've joined the Woads. They know about Roman tactics. And our twenty two against all that? It's madness. Some of us will die."

"Dax," I found my hands gripped tightly, "If anyone dies, I will have only myself to blame. We must trust in God that-"

"I don't believe in your God! Andraste knows what mercy _your_ God has! Therin is _dying_, Arthur! Where is your God for her?" I practically shouted. In a softer tone, injected, to my later embarrassment, tears, I murmured, "Tell me that?" Arthur closed his own eyes, brilliant green, worry etched on his face. I suddenly saw a much older, haggard Arthur, and it terrified me. "I'm sorry." I whispered, tugging my hands out of his grip to lean forwards and hug him. "I'm being a complete arsehole." Arthur hugged me back, giving a surprised chuckle. I was not a hugger. "I'm just worried." I finished lamely, feeling shame welling up inside me at my thoughtlessness. Arthur had more to deal with than I. He was responsible for us all, and there was nothing he could do to change that. He wouldn't leave us to another Roman Commander. We were all family now.

"I have to prepare." I murmured softly. "Is Rowena riding?" Arthur's eyes flashed with annoyance. "Yes, she is, though I've told her she shouldn't."

"Why shouldn't she? It's what she came here to do-I know, Arthur, I know." –I'd received an angry glare- "But Alessandro is four, walking around and talking quite happily, and Emilia is two. They know the risks. You can't keep her locked up forever."

"I wish I could." He muttered grimly as he stood. As I stood to leave, I chipped in, "Oh, and Arthur? Tell anyone I hugged you and there will be a…a what do you call it? Apocalypse?" Arthur's laugher followed me out of the door.

* * *

Tristan slunk out of the shadows as I walked down the hall, eyes questioning. "It's fine," I assured him, as he slipped his hand into mine, falling into step with me as we walked. "He just wanted to know why I was trying to frighten everyone." Tristan's mouth turned up a little as we emerged onto the sunlight paving stones of the courtyard of the Praetorium. "I have to go and prepare. I assume you're ready?" I asked teasingly. Tristan was never not ready. I laughed as he pulled me closer and dropped a chaste kiss on my lips. "When am I not?" He muttered, echoing my thoughts. I smiled up at him, gently flicking the end of his nose with one finger and turning away.

"Dax?"

"Yeah?" I replied, partially turning.

"Love you." Tristan said softly, almost so quietly that I didn't hear it.

"I love you too." I returned with a warm smile, waving as he walked away. I waited until he was out of sight before grinning like an idiot and laughing.

* * *

I felt my spirits rising as I headed back to my rooms, for all the darkness in the world, something sweet could still exist. Tristan was tempestuous and passionate, like myself, but for all I sometimes got annoyed at him, I would never not love him. Opening the door to my shared room, I stepped inside. "Bair, I-oh!"

Dagonet stepped back hurriedly, breaking the kiss between the two. Bair's hair was rumpled, as though Dagonet's hands had been entwined in it, and both their lips were swollen. "Excuse me!" I grinned, stepping out again smartly, closing the door behind me. I leant against the wood, smiling. I felt elated, confused and excited all in one. Dagonet and Findabair? Her words from earlier came to me_; "It's a good thing I found somewhere else to sleep last night." _Dagonet and Bair? It was two years since Venetia's death, and although I knew Dagonet had not forgotten the courageous woman, I was happy that he had moved on. What to do though? A heavy weight tugged at my heart. Therin.

* * *

I sat at the foot of her bed, watching her sleep, her chest barely rising and falling, feeling the happiness in me ebbing away fast. Poor Therin. What had she done to deserve this? Nothing, was the answer. She looked as though she should be dead already. The door opened quietly, and Dock slipped in, closing the heavy oaken orifice behind him.

"Hello," I murmured, turning around again. Dock went to Therin's side, leaning over her worriedly. I couldn't stop the question blurting out; "How is she?" Dock looked at me, and I was again struck at the now sixteen year old young man that stood before me. How he had changed! That same scared twelve year old boy I had met was no more, though vestiges remained. Huge blue eyes gazed steadily into mine, wise and brave. It was hard to believe those same eyes had been welling over in years at his first battle experience.

"She's in her final hours." He said finally. I closed my eyes, feeling tears welling up. I was getting sick of all this crying. The world was such a mixture of feeling and emotion, it was hard to get my bearing. To my surprise, I felt arms circling me. Dock pulled me to him, murmuring, "Shh, it's alright, Dax." I didn't know whether to laugh or bawl my eyes out. The latter happened, without me having much say in the matter. Dock just held me, letting me cry all over his shirt. Let me sob out my worries of Therin's illness, rape, death, losing the people I loved to a cause not our own, guilt at not saving Venetia, and Finn and Tristan, and losing my family, although, I had Han and Therin…I hoped desperately that some miracle from Arthur's God would save her. I sobbed long and loud. It was only almost half an hour later, when we broke apart, that we realised Therin had a soft smile on her face, all traces of fever from her face gone. Hope surged in me, but Dock looked so saddened, I instantly realised what happened.

"She's at peace," Dock murmured, one had still on my shoulder, looking older and more mature than I had ever seen him. "She's gone home."

* * *

Bair tried to explain as soon as I walked through the door, babbling about telling everyone in a manner of their own and would I please not say anything. I looked at her, and she instantly stopped.

"She's gone, hasn't she?" Bair murmured sadly, sitting on her bed alongside her partially filled pack. I nodded, picking up my own pack and folding a spare pair of breeches into it. "I was there with Dock, she passed as we…talked." I said softly, leaving out the part about me crying my eyes out. "She's at peace."

"When will we bury her?" Bair asked suddenly. I stuffed a thick pair of socks into the pack. "In half an hour. Before we ride out." The next half hour was in silence, both of us changing into riding clothes and sorting weaponry. I pulled on a baggy pair of breeches, held up with a studded leather belt, and a thick white linen shirt under a brown woollen jumper, which was in turn covered with a sleeveless black leather jerkin and my kidney belt. Sweeping my hair back into a messy bun, bits falling out and back around my face, I secured my red scarf around my neck, snuggling my chin into it for a moment. Next, heavy boots, sabre, fingerless leather gloves, two long knives and spiked greaves. Bair looked at me, a strange look on her face. "Dax, you…be careful on the battlefield, won't you?" She asked, looking worried.

"I will. You coming?" I asked, shouldering my pack and picking up my bow and quiver. They would go over my saddle. "Yeah." We shut the door, both painfully aware that it might be the last time we did this together.

"Bair?"

"Yeah?"

"You and Dag?" She grinned at me, and I smiled back.

"Yeah."

* * *

Therin's grave was between Melva's and Cadman's, burning incense at the top, along with a healers pouch slung on a stick decorated with Sarmatian script. It looked like Han's work. Tristan held my hand as the rites were said, Rowena singing softly, everyone's head bowed. The sky was a deep grey, clouds rolling across it with a rumble of thunder. As we walked away, I turned and looked at the graveyard, Tristan beside me. I shivered, and my Knight wrapped his arms around me. "This place is almost empty." I whispered to him, my lips grazing his ear as I turned in his embrace. "I'm scared it won't stay that way after this. This mission is foolery, Tristan."

"We'll be alright." He soothed, kissing my forehead. "It'll be alright." Rain began to fall in heavy droplets, splashing off the newly turned earth where my cousin lay. Han waited for me, and I kissed Tristan softly before going into my brother's embrace, looking over his shoulder to where Bair and Dagonet stood together, holding each other tightly. Arthur and Rowena, Alessandro and Emilia sandwiched between them, held each other all closely, Bors and Vanora kissed fervently, and everyone else took solace in one another as the heavens opened, hands clasped to shoulders, eyes knowingly exchanging comfort. We were a family, but as I caught Finn's eye, pain in his gaze and mine, I knew that every family had it's difficulties. I whispered a prayer to Andraste as Galian hugged me before returning me to Tristan's arms. We would come home together.

* * *

The rain fell heavily as we rode, everyone aside from Tristan and Hafgan pulling up hoods and covers to shield themselves, me included. The horses were uncomfortable with the thunder and lightning, skittish and neighing loudly. We'd been riding for hours, reaching the fort of Banna, and yet another half a day's ride from Concavata. Darkness had fallen, and Hafgan had gone ahead, scouting for somewhere to sleep. Hoof beats along the road had everyone tensing, Tristan notching an arrow, Bair quickly following suit. Hafgan's horse came belting out of the rain. Riderless. "Weapons out!" Arthur yelled as shouts echoed along the road, the thunder crashing above us. I looked over at Adair as he murmured, "So it begins." The words shot through me as we looked at each other, before all hell broke loose.

* * *

I'm really, really sorry I didn't update for so long! And with such a shoddy chapter… tchah…. Sorry all… please review though, I need to know where to improve!

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Reviewers!;

**June Birdie**; Heh, suspense is evil, bit I love it! Hope you liked..

**xmusecliox; **Sorry the update took so long. Been busy.. anyway, hope you thought it was ok.

**Cardeia; **This chapter, to my shame, is a bit haphazard. Everything's going everywhichway.. if it's confusing, please tell me!

I'm pleased you liked the women's bit, I thought it was quite.. fitting, in a way. It's not often you see Dax do something like that with the girls, so I thought I should put it in. I'm having a good think about the questions you asked in the last review. I think I'll probably try and answer them in the next chapter, if that's ok! More Arthur interaction, I'm trying to make him more integral with the knights, not just a commander figure. Dax seemed a bit weepy to me in this chapter, I'm sure it's because too much emotion happened, but hey… hope you liked!

**Sarita04; **Here we go, hope you liked!

**Ailis70; **I'm now debating what to do with Finn.. I know he was rebound boy, it's Tristan only for Dax really, so Finn's my loose end at the moment. Tchaa…..I'll think of something! Drunkenness… always a bad idea. Hope you liked!


	36. Reflection

Authors Note; Hey, all. I'm sorry that I haven't updated sooner; I've had serious writers block, personal issues not helping the matter, _and_ I've slightly adjusted how I'm going to end this. So, with no more ado, I present to you the 1st of the last three chapters. Happy reading, please review, and also bear in mind that it could be a while before I update again. Sorry.

* * *

Reflection

"Tristan! Find Hafgan!"

Arthur's shout blasted through the screams and yells of the Woads, penetrating somewhere in the back of my mind as I swung under an axe blow, driving my blade up and through the ribs of my would be attacker. I looked about quickly, seeing Tristan kick his heels into his stallion, shooting down a screaming woman as he passed, vanishing into the rain. I remembered now why I hated the rain. I could never see anything. Hands grabbed at me from my left, dragging me off Rend's back and throwing me into the mud. Snatching a spare dagger from my jerkin, I desperately stabbed upwards, feeling the hot spray of blood on my arm and chest as I hit something. Staggering upright, I unsheathed my sabre, blinking.

Rain made seeing everything difficult; trying to flick my hair out of my face, I stepped wrong, sliding down into the muck. Swearing, I struggled half up already weighed down by the mud soaked in by my previous fall. Knocking a short sword away from my face; I swiped a hand over my face, knocking my hair out of the way- just in time to see a monstrous man lumbering towards me, swinging a mace threateningly. Crouching, I hoped desperately for good purchase for my boots, and lunged. Darting past, I swiped the back of his knees with my blade, slicing through the tendons there, sending him crashing to the floor with a bellow of pain; an arrow shot by me and buried itself in his eye, silencing him. I made a mental note to thank Bair later. A woman became the next one to fall under my blade, blood spurting up and across my face as I grabbed her short dagger, using her momentum to twist the blade around through her neck. Keeping the blade, I used both hands to slash and stab where I could, vicious thoughts running through my head as Melva and Cadman appeared in my mind. Weariness bit at me as the battle continued, Woads seeming to pour from thin air into our midst, their stinking dye permeating the air with it's reek.

Ducking a falling man, I foolishly turned my back on a dying woman, preferring to behead the man on my other side; a jolt at the back of my knee shocked me, felling me like a sack of grain. Twisting as I fell, I flung my pilfered short sword through the dying woman's failing eyes, swearing. Acting quickly, looking around to see if any Woad had noticed my plight, I heaved myself to my feet, spinning roughly one leg. A yell grabbed my attention, and I flung my arm up not a moment too late, the spiked greave catching the knife meant for my heart; my arm went numb, the sabre dropping from my numb fingers into the mud.

My attacker howled in fury, grabbing me and slamming me against a tree, hands at my throat. Suddenly, Finn was there, snarling with fury and running the man through. He said nothing, but nodded at me as I gaped. "Watch it." He grumbled, moving back into the dwindling fray. Dipping down, I retrieved my sabre. That man was confusing. A snap to my left caught my ears.

I glared at a man trying to sneak up on me, a feral grin tainting my mouth as the beast began to slowly surface in my mind. I knew that if I lost my temper, I would go berserk, and I wouldn't know friend from foe.

With a clash, our swords met and slid off one another, thus began the battle for my life. This man was not a Woad. His fighting was much like the Roman style. Our first encounter with a deserter. Rage coursed through me.

Enslaved for their republic and yet here he was, trying to kill me.

Snarling, I lunged, trying to find a hole in his defence. The man's face was sombre and calculating. Disconcerting.

Clashing together, our legs slid in the dirt, both of us trying to force the other to slip. My feet hit grass and I forced the sabre in my hands upwards, breaking the lock and quickly flicking the blade under the sword towards his ribs. The man hissed, blood staining his shirt as he swore, hacking downwards strongly with his broadsword. I ducked out of the way, letting out a hiss of my own as it caught the back of my hand, ripping a small gash there.

Eyes locked, we began to circle one another, concentrating. I was dimly aware of the battle ending, the last Woads leaving, but the Roman and I had business still. The crash as we met again rang through my already sore arm, muscles screaming as he forced my blade down, whipping the huge sword towards my neck; stumbling back, I tripped over something, landing hard. In that moment, I forgot completely about the man who was trying to kill me.

Daeine's tear streaked face peered up at me, blood running from her temple, hands desperately grasping at me, trying to pull herself upright. She mouthed something, pitiful mewing noises bubbling through her blood filled mouth. In horror, I watched as she rolled onto her side, unable to crawl anymore. Her throat had been cut open. Slowly, she groaned, eyes closing, chest heaving, then stopping. A thud on my other side drew my captivated and horrified gaze; the Roman man lay on the dirt, an arrow in his eye. Bair seemed to like aiming for the eyes.

I turned back to Daeine, feeling numb. I'd never really gotten to know the girl. She was quiet and fierce, especially over Percival.

Percival.

Where was Percival?

"Dax, woman! Do you have a death wish! This is a battle!" Bair yelled behind me, anger simmering through her voice. I couldn't speak.

"Are you even listening to me?" I ignored her, looking away from the dead girl, standing, picking up my sabre and walking away. I heard Bair gasp. I heard…

"Dax? Who is…Daeine?" Percival.

An inhuman roar tore itself from him as he sprinted to her side, collapsing next to her, agonised screams tearing themselves from him as he gathered his dead lover to him, bowing his head in grief.

I turned my back, walking away towards Rend, who had been caught by Finn. I was dimly aware of being covered in blood and mud.

"Little Fire? Are you alright?" Finn murmured, a weary look on his face. I couldn't answer for a moment. I chose not to, instead saying,

"Hafgan?"

Finn shook his head. "Dead too. Daeine and Hafgan are gone." His voice shuddered, and he held out his arms. I gave him a blank look, not comprehending what he wanted.

"Dax," He whispered pleadingly. I stepped towards him, hugging him briefly. "Look after yourself, please." Finn murmured. "I don't want to die without telling you that I don't hate you."

"You hate him." I murmured back.

"How can I not? He took you away." Finn barked back fiercely. I stepped out of his hold. I sighed, feeling more exhausted than I had done in a long time. "I know. But as long as you hate Tristan, you hate me. He is a part of me." Finn looked stunned for a moment, before nodding, a hard look in his eyes.

Dimly, I realised it had stopped raining.

* * *

Tristan rode back to us with heavy shoulders, looking older than I had ever seen him. Pausing from the creation of my bedroll, which was placed in the shelter of a rock cave, I watched as he strode to Arthur, giving him a report of the surrounding area, before flicking back to the chores as he turned to look at me. As I concentrated on straightening out the heavy saddle blanket on the top of the small but hardy rush mat, another bundle of bedding fell to the ground with a thump. "Care for company?" Tristan muttered gruffly, lithe fingers beginning to untie his roll and set it up beside mine. I said nothing, merely placing my hand on his arm for a moment before standing and stretching upwards. I sat on my roll and began to clean my sabre of blood carefully, letting my eyes wander to my lover's strong frame as he deftly set out his sleeping space. I knew that he knew I watched him; neither of us felt embarrassment. A tense atmosphere suddenly came over the air when he looked at me. "I heard something interesting when I was waiting to speak to Arthur."

I felt my stomach clench. "Oh?"

"Bair seems to think that you can't look after yourself in battle. Neither does Finn. You were getting distracted."

Instantly, anger and petty childishness at being told this welled up inside me, and I trained my eyes on my sabre to prevent my hand whipping out to his cheek. Calmly, I raised my eyes again and gave Tristan a steady look. "And what do you think?"

He shrugged non-committaly, dark eyes unreadable. "I wasn't there."

"You know me well enough to make a judgement."

"Then I would say that you got distracted."

"Tristan-"

"Dax, you are not concentrating!" At his slightly raised voice, unusual at the best of times, Lancelot and Arthur looked over, the former raising his eyebrows.

"And I would say that you need your head examined, check that some Woad hasn't addled your brains." I snapped in a whisper, watching Lancelot and Arthur. I stood up, slapping away Tristan's hand as he reached for my arm, choosing instead to help with the building of the funeral pyres; no Woads in the area meant that we could send Hafgan and Daeine East, rather than leave them to this land.

I pushed myself into the task, hoping to work away some of my frustration at Tristan's lack of trust and the loss of two knights in the hauling of varying sized tree branches. As the last branch fell into place between Han and I, I let my brother wrap me up in a hug. "You alright, Little Fire?" I didn't reply, merely tightening my grip until I heard Han give out a slightly wheezy breath. "Little….Fire….ow!" I grinned, unclenching my arms and grinning up into his familiar face. "Weakling." I murmured fondly, smiling gently. I stepped back and let my arms fall away, Han's rueful gaze slightly mischievous. "I shoved you in the mud as a child, I'll do it again." He threatened laughingly.

"Yeah, try it." I answered dryly, smiling. Han turned to walk away, and I realised that if I didn't say it now, I never would. "Han?" He turned to look at me curiously. "Don't die, please." He nodded, eyes loving, before asking me to do the same. The pyres suddenly roared to life behind me, the other knights either standing vigil or going about their tasks, tears in their eyes. I remained stood with my back to them, closing my eyes and listening to the hissing as the newly falling rain dripped into the recalescent flames.

* * *

I couldn't sleep. My back to Tristan's roll; which remained empty; I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep, desperately ignoring the sounds of the trees around the encampment and the sounds of some of the others around the campfire. Eventually, we'd left the battlefield slowly, carrying Hafgan and Daeine's bodies, searching for somewhere to stay for the night. Our location was a small outcropping of caves a little way off the road into the trees, supplies and pack items were in the drier caves to keep them safe, while everyone else tried to find somewhere dry for themselves. Tristan and I had a cave to ourselves, and while it wasn't wide, it was fairly deep, with many of the possessions at the back of the cave, Tristan and I were to act like a guard; nothing would get past, whether we were sleeping or not.

Each time I closed my eyes, a view of the battlefield smouldered behind my lids, Daeine's pained expression burning a hole in the fabric of my being. This was death, and there was going to be more of it.

A sharp sting rang through me at the thought of my childish reaction to Tristan's assessment earlier that night. '_I shouldn't be so tetchy,' _I thought morosely as I sighed, tugging my blanket to fit under my chin, wriggling a bit to get comfortable on the hard ground. '_I might die tomorrow, and he wouldn't know how sorry I am_.'

I frowned, thinking about all the times that we'd dashed into shadows, frantic to feel our kisses burn, all the times I'd felt a shiver when he looked at me. Was this love? This scorching feeling that kindled afresh each time I saw him, the desperate hopelessness that encompassed me when he went out on a dangerous scouting trip. All the times he came back hurt, all the times that I'd cried, all the times that he'd been there for me. My mouth hardened into a thin line. I would not ride into battle tomorrow without telling him how I felt. Properly.

For a long while, I lay there, thinking, feeling a draught at my back. Sleep seemed inevitable, but as my eyes began to droop, I heard quiet footsteps heading towards me.

Tristan lay down behind me, not touching me and not saying a word. A hot feeling flushed my face as I rolled over and sat up, looking down at my lover.

He lay flat on his back, eyes closed. I knew he did not sleep. "Tristan," I whispered, leaning over him slightly. "I know you aren't sleeping."

No response.

Feeling stupid, I tried again. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have acted like a child this afternoon."

My eyes narrowed as a slight smile quirked him lips. Feigning weariness, I lay down again, turning my back on my irritating lover. "I'm trying to tell you that I love you with my whole heart, and you're sleeping. Tragic. Goodnight, Tristran."

It was a tiny change. The slightest shift in the air, but I felt it like a physical blow.

An arm wrapped itself around my waist, drawing me back to a warm body as a second set of covers opened to let me in. Calloused fingers shifted my hair off the back of my neck, a shiver running down my back.

Gently, Tristan pressed his lips to my skin, trailing a set of scorching kisses to my jaw until I rolled over, unable to bear it, and met his mouth with my own.

On later reflection, I thought it was wrong that Tristan and I made love in the scant privacy of our little cave as Percival grieved the loss of his lover, but I would always remember that night as the beginning of the rest of my life.

* * *

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	37. The Wall

**The Wall**

_Daeine slid to the ground, holding onto my shirt as the gaping maw of her slit throat screamed, "You're all going to die!" Panic welled through me was I tried to bat away her hands, the flesh of her fingers rotting even as I tried to prise them away…_

I jerked awake, eyes wide in the dawn sun.

"Dax?" The sleepy mumble behind me brought no reassurance, the memory of the dream causing me to sit up and wrap my arms around myself, placing my chin on my knees as my eyes remained wide and scared. Were we all doomed for death this day? What was wrong with me? I never got frightened about battle…

Tristan sat up, swinging one leg behind me to that I sat between his legs, my back curved into his chest as he wrapped his arms around me, pressing a small kiss to the back of my head. "Nightmare?" He asked softly, chin on my shoulder. I nodded, leaning into him with a weary sigh. He said nothing more, merely continuing to hold me until we heard the sounds of the other rising.

As I adjusted my sabre over my shoulders, Tristan took a hold of one of my hands, tugging me towards him. I clung to him, knowing that this may very well be the last time I could do this. "Don't die," I whispered, tucking my head under his chin. "Please."

"I'm not going to die, Daxera. You make sure you concentrate." I nodded, closing my eyes as I pulled away.

"We should get moving. We have to get to Concavata by mid morning."

No more goodbyes.

The road was mud soaked from the rain the day before, making the going tedious and irritating. Tempers began to fray, the first, unsurprisingly, being Galahad's, as Lancelot goaded him for some petty wench argument.

With a tense shout, Arthur silenced the bickering pair while Rowena and I shared a look. _'Men.'_

The journey continued in silence, everyone all watchful and wary of the threat that could very well have been close. I glanced over at Percival, who had not said a word since the previous night. He rode slumped in his saddle, eyes blank and surrounded with dark circles. I felt a strong tug of pity for him. While he and Daeine had fallen out, they could never have remained angry at one another. It was clear in everything they did that they were meant for each other.

My musings were interrupted suddenly by a timid question.

"Do you think we're going to survive this?" Lamorak asked quietly, eyes on the road. I sighed, thinking.

"We've survived before," I said eventually. "I don't see why we wouldn't survive this time."

A sudden shout had everyone tensing, some swords drawn while others' bowstrings tautened. Tristan appeared over the hill we were steadily climbing, and behind him, over the hill, rose a golden eagle standard, wings spread out wide and it's head thrown back, beak open in a scream. A bright red banner hung below it.

Romans.

As we topped the hill with the Roman Emissary, many mouths dropped open in shock. From the hilltop, we could see the wall. And what was behind it on our side.

"How many are there?" Rowena whispered in shock, her pretty face stunned. The Emissary looked smug.

"Six thousand. All from Eburacum. It's not a legionary fort for nothing, woman." He added snidely, but quickly quailed under the glare he received from Arthur. The area behind the wall was awash with tents. Soldiers and horsemen swarmed all over the ground like ants.

The Emissary continued, "Three hundred horsemen, light and heavy infantry and more are at disposal if needed."

Arthur nodded. "Who is the Legionnaire leading them?"

"Vivas Pisces."

I sniggered, as did a few of the others.

"An unfortunate name," Adair murmured a few rows back. "Shame on the boy's parents."

Luckily, the Emissary hadn't heard that part, and merely warned with a sniff, "He gets irritated about his name. Do not press jokes."

"I'd get irritated too if someone named me 'Live Fish'," Muttered Lancelot.

With a warning glance at his second in command, Arthur ushered us down the hill in formation, and I couldn't help but feel my stomach roll unpleasantly at the prospects ahead.

"Go home little woman," jeered an unshaved, pot-bellied man as Bair passed. I watched as she twisted her horse's reigns and backed up to the man, leaning down in her saddle until she was on eye level with him. Adair, Tristan and I halted, Galian, Han and a dark eyed Percival halting behind us. Without a word, Bair straightened, looking down her nose at the Roman, who flushed and turned away, muttering. With a snort of irritation, Bair spurred her horse on, without a single look back at the staring section of tents. I looked over at Adair, who grinned, before nudging his horse. Arthur called back over his shoulder, a slight hint of worry in his voice for the rest of us to catch up.

As I nudged Rend forwards, my eyes watched with growing nervousness the tiredness, desperation and weariness on many of the faces that sat at the doors of tents. Swords that should have been cleaned and gleaming stood rammed to the hilt in mud, blood staining the pommels and shields lying abandoned in the mire. Men watched as we rode past on our horses, relatively clean and shiny compared to the mud and blood caked miseries camped on either side of the road. It was an unsettling sight.

As we rode through the gates of the fort, a sudden stench rolled through the air; sickness and death permeated from a single doorway. Twisting in my saddle, I looked over my shoulder for Dock, who had been sticking with Dagonet for the whole journey. Our eyes met, his reassuring look a new expression for him. I offered a weak grin and a blown kiss. I prayed he would be aright.

"The attack begins in half an hour," Lancelot delivered, grim faced as he strode from the temporary Praetorium set up in the middle of the camp. Gareth looked up from his perch on a felled log serving as seating for soldiers. "So soon?" He asked quietly. I looked at Tristan silently. He inclined his head slightly and let the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. I noted with pride his eagerness to join the battle and fight, but I did not share the sentiments. We stood around waiting, ignoring the remarks from soldiers and the screams of pain from the infirmary where Dock had vanished to upon arrival. I wrapped my arms around myself, comforted to know that at least he was on this side of the wall, not the other, and that healers were more often than not kept as unwilling surgeons by the Woads, whose medicinal knowledge was far below that of the Romans. Rowena stretched her legs out, gleaming broadsword resting on the shining greaves of her shins. "I've not been in battle for so long," she murmured dreamily, eyes glazing slightly. "Yesterday wasn't a battle?" Percival snapped from behind her. Rowena flushed as everyone went silent, even the chatter of Romans behind us lulling for a moment.

"I apologise," he said suddenly, grief rimmed eyes sombre. "That was wrong of me." Rowena turned to face him fully. "It was not wrong. Forgive me for speaking too freely, Percival."

I looked over at Bair, who was sparring with Galahad. The young man was very talented with his blade, his close friend Gawain even more so with the axe. Our little band of knights wouldn't fare so badly, in my mind.

Ever so slightly, my worry of battle eased to a small niggle.

"Knights," Arthur shouted. We rose, as one. "We ride."

_I'm sorry it's so short. Final chapter will be up in two hours.; ALSO, the line divide didn't want to work, so I was unable to properly divide my paragrapghs. Sorry about that. _

_Hera's Vengeance._


	38. Exodus

Exodus

Stood in line, I felt Rend jittering under me. Tristan on one side, Han on the other, I sat waiting.

The waiting, as I was about to discover, was soon to be over. Too soon.

The gigantic gates before us began to open inwards, giving us a horrific view of the bloodstained doors. The blood and gore seeped to halfway up the timber, soaked deeply into the grain. Dimly, I heard Bors mutter an oath two rows back. As Arthur shouted for the column to move forwards, I gripped the reigns even more tightly in my fingers, waiting for the inevitable moment that we broke ranks and fanned out into a half circle behind the rest of the Roman Cavalry.

Dimly, over the heads of red plumed helmets, I could make out a mish mash of blue and brown amongst the line of trees one hundred meters from the wall. I shifted in my saddle as we broke ranks, fingering the rough leather under my fingers. I ran over my armour in my head, checking everything was present and I had remembered everything. It would be too late now, I thought with a grim smile. Tristan looked over, a questioning look in his eyes. I waved it off.

Han grinned weakly at me, looking as nervous as I felt. There is a horrible sick feeling everyone gets when faced with something they don't want to do. It brews first in the gut, then moves to the limbs, making them sluggish and weary. The mind fogs and becomes dulled, opening it's owner to attack and death. "_A clear mind is a warriors most precious gift,"_ my father had told me, "_Never forget that, Daxera."_

"I didn't forget," I whispered, looking straight ahead. "I'll never forget."

With no warning, an arrow shot past, lodging itself into a Roman forehead some ten feet behind. Screams, roars and the sound of bows snapping began. With a fluid, mindless motion, I drew and fired over the heads of the Romans along with the others, not seeing whether I'd hit anything. Arthur once said that the most effective way to deal with situations like this was simply to fire over, as there were so many of the enemy, it was more likely to make a mark than a planned move in a heaving battlefield.

Still, we were crammed together in order. The fighting at the front line brought a shiver of anticipation to my spine. Suddenly, I was eager to be at the front, desperate to fight. Anything was better than this waiting. "Forward! Forward all!" Arthur bellowed, and we did, surging as one with the Romans; it would be the only time I ever felt camaraderie with them. In the thick of fighting, I dismounted, seeing the others doing the same. I drew my sabre, swung, and killed a screaming man.

As though a bucket of water had been dumped over my head, the sight, sounds and smells of battle hit me, the warm spray of blood as his neck gushed open, hitting my armoured chest and sending a light mist onto my face. This was my life. That was his. Screams, bangs, yells; a ballast rock shot overhead, demolishing a wide swathe of trees, smoke from tar lines stung my eyes as I blocked, swung and thrust automatically, moving my feet fluidly.

"Dax, help me!" Twisting on one foot, I saw Han with two hulking Woads, ducking as a mace flew past his head. I ran, flung myself forward and sent my sabre straight through the smaller one's spine. Feeling the crunch of bone as my blade sank through, I realised my feet were dangling off the ground as I hung onto my blade. The man tipped backwards; I shrieked in pain and fright as he landed atop me, crushing my torso. My arms were twisted into an odd shape as I struggled to release my sabre. The stench of the Woad's sweat was suffocating and horrifying, mixed with the blood that was beginning to well around my hands, aiding my effort to slide my hands free.

Suddenly, he was off and flung away, and Dagonet grabbed my breastplate by the neck and hauled me up, axe in one hand. I gasped and almost doubled over, were it not for the clap he delivered to my back. I reached down, grabbed my sword and gave him a thankful look before swinging back into the fray. I couldn't see Han anywhere, though I pushed the though to the back of my mind as I saw Rowena on one knee, holding off a Roman deserter with her broadsword. Slicing through a young man barely past fourteen, I ducked under a swinging crow bill and towards Rowena- only to see Arthur take the head off the Roman deserter in one fell swoop.

Exhaustion began to dog at me almost an hour later. The Woads were dwindling, some had fled. So had some Romans, preferring the shelter of the infirmary with self inflicted sword wounds. We had regrouped and attacked as a group twice before splitting. Percival was dead, as was Bedivere. Galian was seriously wounded; Bors dragged him to the infirmary, an arrow in his chest.

Suddenly, a horn sounded. It blasted over the battlefield, lulling the noise unexpectedly, leaving in it's wake a ringing silence. The Woads began to flee, heading back into the forests followed by a barrage of arrows which flew overhead in a rain of death, killing and maiming several of the blue painted enemy. I stood perfectly still, feeling the ache in my bones, the sting of the small cuts that littered my body and face and the overwhelming desire to drop to my knees and cry with relief. It was over.

Dock walked with one arm around Bair's back, helping her limp towards us; the survivors. Of the twenty two that rode to Concavata, seven would not return. Hafgan, Daeine, Percival, Bedivere, Gareth, Lamorak, Galian and Adair. All dead.

My eyes were red with grief, my soul inside torn to shreds. Galian had died as a result of his arrow wound; Adair was disembowelled by a lucky child fresh to battle, Bedivere by sword, Gareth by an arrow, Lamorak to a mace…I shuddered. At first, we didn't find Lamorak. His face had been torn off by the blow of the weapon, rendering him identifiable only by his armour. Percival fell to a sword, and Hafgan and Daeine didn't enter this hell. Tristan slipped an arm around me, pulling me tightly to his side with firm strength. I welcomed the move, tucking myself under his arm, savouring his warmth. Arthur gave us the news that we were leaving almost as soon as the pyres burnt out. We would ride through the night; this place was strewn with blood and death. None of us wanted to remain. I still felt numb; Galahad hadn't spoken yet, and Bair seemed to see something in the distance that only she could identify. Perhaps we did not all die; but we were changed knights. On my other side, Lancelot shifted forwards, carrying the torch, his handsome features grim in the flickering light.

The pyres were being lit, and I watched as the smoke billowed up into the blood red sunset. Some lived, some died; memories lived forever.

_I would like to say a huge thank you to everyone who read this story. To those who gave reviews, your support has been infallible, and I'm sorry this wasn't completed sooner. I love you all- seriously!_

_This is the end of Tithe'd._

_But, who knows, there could be another like it on the way?_


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